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POETIC 
 
 CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 BY 
 
 THAD. S. HUTSON 
 
 F. L. ROWE, PUBLISHER 
 
 CINCINNATI, OHIO 
 
 1915 
 

 Copyright, 19 15, by 
 Thad. S. Hutson 
 
 OfC 15 1915 
 
 ©CI.A416868 
 
S^birattnn 
 
 To Alice Ionia, my wife, this volume is affection- 
 ately dedicated. 
 
 Thaddeus Stevens Hutson. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 This Book 9 
 
 To Mother 10 
 
 From Los Angeles to Seattle 11 
 
 Bethel Postofeice 17 
 
 The Old Orchard 27 
 
 The Boys' Debate 30 
 
 The Earth 34 
 
 Encouragement 36 
 
 Memorial Day 37 
 
 Jack Simpson 39 
 
 Alta Vista's Cobbler 43 
 
 My Weak Way 45 
 
 Virgie's Kitten 49 
 
 Bygone Days 50 
 
 Courage, Soldier, Fight 51 
 
 Nickel Theaters 54 
 
 Poodle-Dog Women 55 
 
 The Henpecked Husband 58 
 
 The Isley Boys 60 
 
 Slighted Love 62 
 
 (5) 
 
6 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Page 
 
 An Ex-Slave's Religion 65 
 
 Equality 67 
 
 In Memory of Lola Younger 69 
 
 Millennium 71 
 
 The Robin 70 
 
 The Gospel Against Shoddy 78 
 
 The Rooster- Peck ed Wiee 81 
 
 My Likes 83 
 
 Streams and Dreams 85 
 
 Our Prayer 87 
 
 The Boys 89 
 
 Preachers' Wives 91 
 
 Pone Town Cat Fight 93 
 
 Observation 95 
 
 Temperance 97 
 
 Why Should We Fear to Die? 99 
 
 The Wabash Bridge 101 
 
 Let Us Sing 103 
 
 A Grave in Wisconsin 104 
 
 Heb. 13:4 106 
 
 If Only 107 
 
 The Judgment 109 
 
 Old Penix 1 1 1 
 
 Judge Not 113 
 
 K. of P. Bull Wrestler 1 16 
 
 Sunshine and Snow 117 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 7 
 
 Page 
 
 Grover Hurley's Suave 118 
 
 God's Word, the Church and Home 120 
 
 The Red Wheelbarrow 124 
 
 Our Mother • . . . 127 
 
 Considerations 129 
 
 When the Preacher Comes 131 
 
 Considerations No. II 133 
 
 Bygone Christmas 134 
 
 Stringtown Schoolmates 137 
 
 Be Keerfue 138 
 
 Law Shits 141 
 
 The Tattler 144 
 
 I'm Satisfied 146 
 
 Gettysburg Reunion 149 
 
THIS BOOK 
 
 Why should the public, "hook or crook," 
 Be troubled with another book? 
 Of all the books you've ever seen, 
 No book like this has ever been. 
 The public eye, all things in view, 
 Will read this book as something new. 
 
 With literary critic's test, 
 
 This book is not among the best; 
 
 But it abounds in sentiments 
 
 That all can grasp with common sense; 
 
 It holds some things unpopular; 
 
 But for its truth you need not fear. 
 
 Emotions of the writer here 
 
 Were written both with smile and tear ; 
 
 His dreams of nature and of grace 
 
 Have found within this book a place ; 
 
 He prays the reader, as he reads, 
 
 May find some precious things be needs 
 
 One quarter of a century 
 
 From State to State, as you can see, 
 
 An active preacher of the cross, 
 
 As counting all things else but dross, 
 
 What he remembered and observed, 
 
 The contents of this book has served. 
 
 (9) 
 
io POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 And when the writer sleeps in death, 
 This book will show the narrow path 
 In which he traveled, here below ; 
 And all his living friends may know 
 The cause for which he suffered so, 
 How until death he faced the foe 
 
 The foe of Church, and home, and State, 
 
 The foe with anger, malice, hate ; 
 
 The foe with selfishness and greed, 
 
 The foe with "cliques," and "clubs" and creed 
 
 Of domineering human will, 
 
 This book to all savs, "Peace, be still." 
 
 TO MOTHER 
 
 Camrbidge, Kan., December 13, 1910. 
 My Dear Mother: 
 
 I'm glad to know that you are better, and that 
 you love and pray for me as you did when I was a 
 little boy. I think much of those trying times through 
 which we have passed. 
 
 Although you are seventy-six, how glad we are 
 to have you with us yet! If you live a few more 
 years you and your boy may yet "go home" together. 
 Don't you think the folks " over there " would be glad 
 to see us? I know that marriages do not count in 
 heaven except to be married to Christ and to be 
 properly dressed for "the marriage supper of the 
 
POETIC CONSIDBRATfOXS u 
 
 Lamb/' But you will see by these lines how, today, 
 my thoughts dwell with old things, times and friends 
 of the past. With love to you I am, as ever, 
 Affectionately, 
 
 Your Son, 
 
 FROM LOS ANGELES TO SEATTLE 
 
 In the sultry month of August 
 
 Then I left Los .Angeles; 
 Pasadena in her beauty. 
 
 With her balmy, cooling breeze ; 
 Long Reach, with her rare attractions, 
 
 And the roaring ocean's wave, 
 Where myself with many others 
 
 Have enjoyed its salty lave. 
 
 Such a climate as this country 
 
 Is but seldom ever found, 
 Nor for mountain scenic beauty 
 
 In the United States all around. 
 Oh, the climbing vines and roses, 
 
 And the flowers 'round the lawn! 
 You can scent the sweetest blossoms 
 
 From your "get there" till you're gone. 
 
 Land of oranges and lemons, 
 Luscious melons on the vine, 
 
 And the sweet grapes for the table 
 And for making sparkling wine. 
 
12 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 "All aboard! The South Pacific," 
 Northward o'er the mountains go, 
 Thundering in and out of tunnels, 
 Up the incline very slow. 
 
 Down the slope into the valley, 
 
 Green alfalfa, beets and fruit ; 
 'Round "the great loop" on to Fresno, 
 
 I Tear the whistle's "toot, toot, toot." 
 "All change cars here for Dos Palos," 
 
 In the county of Merced; 
 Thousands acres here of wheat fields 
 
 Where the people get their bread. 
 
 "All out here for South Dos Palos," 
 
 Dairy country all around; 
 Cows, both Holstein and the Jersey, 
 
 Furnish butter by the pound. 
 Broad canals, with sparkling water, 
 
 Irrigate this "grass-land" soil, 
 And the farmers make their money 
 
 With but seeming little toil. 
 
 Here the ducks and wild geese gather 
 
 By the river and sloughs; 
 Here the gunner is made happy, 
 
 He can shoot just all he choose. 
 Thence we go to San Francisco, 
 
 O'er the undulating plains, 
 Till we reach "the Earthquake City," 
 
 Fully paid for all our pains. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 13 
 
 Reconstruction is more solid 
 
 Than the buildings of old time, 
 And more beautiful — the truth will 
 
 Fit exactly in this rhyme. 
 She is making preparation, 
 
 So it plainly can be seen, 
 For the world's great exhibition, 
 
 Nineteen hundred and fifteen. 
 
 Thence we crossed to Sausalito, 
 
 On the San Francisco Bay; 
 Cool and bracing were the breezes, 
 
 Though it was an August day. 
 Then we stopped at Petaluma, 
 
 Noted chicken town, of course, 
 (Just a paradise for preachers!) 
 
 Believe me or consider source. 
 
 Then we go to Santa Rosa, 
 
 Beauty! city of the rose; 
 Here I met the great man, Burbank, 
 
 Famous for the things he grows. 
 Spineless cactus, Burbank "taters," 
 
 Shasta daisies, plums and nuts; 
 He is king of horticulture, 
 
 Thinks outside, above old ruts. 
 
 At the apple exhibition 
 
 In the town of Sebastopol, 
 Grown without the irrigation — 
 
 Graven steins ; the trees were full. 
 
i 4 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Prunes and walnuts, yellow peaches, 
 
 And Sonoma's apricot, 
 Grow on all her coast, mount, hillsides, 
 
 Tastes like more, it hits the spot. 
 
 Follow now the Sacramento 
 
 North to "Corning Colony"; 
 Here we find the olive orchards, 
 
 With the berries on the tree. 
 Almonds, oranges and alfalfa, 
 
 Plums and peaches, prunes and figs, 
 Raisin grapes, and for the table, 
 
 Turkeys, chickens, cows and pigs. 
 
 Here each farmer has the water 
 
 From his own well on the ranch ; 
 He can pump it soon or later — 
 
 Electric power is his chance. 
 Then we went to Roseburg City, 
 
 In the State of Oregon ; 
 Saw Mount Shasta, snow-white, pretty, 
 
 Towering in the setting sun. 
 
 Great trees, pine, and fir, and redwood, 
 
 Forest wide on either side, 
 Wastes by forest fires and dead wood, 
 
 Waterfalls and mountain glide. 
 Here's the State home for old soldiers 
 
 And the young of Cuban war, 
 Glad to see again red clover 
 
 In the fields both here and there. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 15 
 
 Stopping on my way to Portland, 
 
 In the city of Oregon, 
 On our drive way to the country, 
 
 Hop fields, hop fields, on and on. 
 Farmers, digging their potatoes, 
 
 Seem to have a bounteous crop; 
 Here I saw the finest cabbage 
 
 On my route at any stop. 
 
 On to Portland next we travel, 
 
 Honor now to Lewis and Clark, 
 Who dared pioneer the pathway 
 
 Through the wilderness so dark. 
 Paved the way for future progress, 
 
 Which the thrifty white man trod, 
 Tried by red men, cleared the forest, 
 
 And with gun and fishing rod, 
 
 Drove the wild beasts from their jungles. 
 
 Made the plains bloom as the rose; 
 Fought and triumphed, built this city, 
 
 Surprisingly and rapid grows. 
 On to Washington, Seattle, 
 
 Place of wonders half untold, 
 Place of business roar and rattle, 
 
 Rich in lumber, grain and gold. 
 
 O'er the Sound to old Port Orchard, 
 
 Eighteen miles by water there; 
 Passed a steamer, " Indianapolis," 
 
 Smiling, on my feet to stare. 
 
1 6 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Saw the yard of U. S. Navy — 
 
 Famous vessel "Oregon," 
 "Pennsylvania" in her glory, 
 
 And the gunboat "Charleston." 
 
 Crossing o'er the Cascade Mountains — 
 
 Green and beautiful the sight — 
 Mount Ranier far in the distance, 
 
 Many peaks were snowy white. 
 Here we came to town of Prosser, 
 
 Fruitful valley Yakima; 
 All from Sunnyside, Wenatchee, 
 
 Big red apples plenty grow. 
 
 'Tween the mountains of "horse heaven" 
 
 And the hills of rattlesnake 
 Lies this fruitful valley Prosser, 
 
 Rich in yield, and no mistake. 
 Apples striped red and yellow, 
 
 Veg'tables of every kind, 
 Good enough for any fellow, 
 
 Better place is hard to find. 
 
 Now I here must end my story, 
 No more words must I rehash ; 
 
 But my trip will reach its glory 
 When I see "The Old Wabash." 
 
 ProssKr, Wash., October 12, 191 1. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 17 
 
 BETHEL POSTOFFICE 
 
 Let us take a retrospection, bring the past to present 
 
 view, 
 Common things in this collection ever dear to me and 
 
 you; 
 By-gone days, before the favors of the handy rural 
 
 route, 
 When we got our mail at Bethel 'fore the name was 
 
 changed to Stout. 
 When there wasn't any autos nor so many telephones, 
 Just to think of it now thrills me to the marrow of 
 
 my bones; 
 'Tis a pleasure to remember neighbors of the by-gone 
 
 times, 
 And to praise their many virtues in these homely kind 
 
 of rhymes. 
 
 There now come before me faces hid away beneath 
 the ground, 
 
 And some names to you familiar in this poem will be 
 found. 
 
 Now it seems the first in order of those names we 
 would descant 
 
 Is the ex-soldier postmaster, and his name is Noah 
 Grant ; 
 
 His own wagon shop and office were both in one build- 
 ing then, 
 2 
 
1 8 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Till he called the names they waited, both the women 
 
 and the men. 
 Mumble was the conversation, but the master's voice 
 
 was clear, 
 As he called the names in order, then would come the 
 
 answer, "Here." 
 
 Through the woods, across the meadows, once a week 
 
 and without fail, 
 We were sent to get the papers, and whatever other 
 
 mail; 
 We would take some eggs and butter, trade some at 
 
 the grocery, 
 Buy tobacco, sugar, coffee, or a spool of O. N. T. 
 There the smoker and the joker and the neighbor girl 
 
 and boy 
 Heard the stories, shared the glories and were filled 
 
 with social joy. 
 Some one shouts, " Here comes the mail man," driving 
 
 with a single sack, 
 And with practiced air of business turns the bundle 
 
 to unpack. 
 
 " Stop that riot, all get quiet !" Noah Grant's strong 
 
 voice would ring, 
 Then he calls out V. R. Garner, followed by Cornelius 
 
 King; 
 Solomon Hiatt, Mr. Besser, Uncle Charlie Stevenson, 
 Benjamin Jackson, Jacob Miller, all the names of 
 
 Smith and son; 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS , 19 
 
 Joshua Null and John Dewitt, and the big Jeff Cheese- 
 man, too, 
 
 Hay how, Zimmerman and Haydens, Dotsons, Hutsons 
 not a few ; 
 
 Uncle Ben Brown and Jake Isley, and the near-by 
 Joseph Quick, 
 
 Nobles, Rosses, Staffords, Mosses, Sam and Charley, 
 Tom and Dick; 
 
 Lakes and Curtses and the Findleys, with John Clark 
 and Harvey Childs, 
 
 Simpsons, Bruntons, Jones and Snodgrass through my 
 memory now files. 
 
 Iven Webb, the farmer-preacher, and the children of 
 these men 
 
 Got their mail at good "Old Bethel" when they all 
 were living then. 
 
 Those were the days of worm-rail fences and log 
 houses not a few ; 
 
 Hospitality was freer then, I think, than now, don't 
 you? 
 
 People then were not so clannish, and with pledge- 
 bound party clique 
 
 Put no bars against their neighbor by a selfish human 
 trick. 
 
 Spelling schools and exhibitions, the revival meetings, 
 
 too, 
 Brought those neighbors much together, and their love 
 
 was strong and true. 
 
20 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 They are gone! those days and pleasures, sad news 
 
 oft my spirit grieves 
 Of the death of our old neighbors, thick and fast like 
 
 falling leaves. 
 Now comes on a generation strangers both in name 
 
 and face, 
 Facing bravely life's new battles, taking their grand- 
 fathers' place; 
 When they are older and life's troubles write the 
 
 wrinkles on their brow, 
 They in that day will remember, just as we remember 
 
 now. 
 They will find new ties are forming, and with changes 
 
 ever new, 
 They can not forget the old times, nor the friends so 
 
 pure and true. 
 
 For "Old Bethel" we are sighing, for the friendly 
 
 shake and smile, 
 By-gone days are dead or dying, but we think of them 
 
 the while. 
 Brief and painful is a lifetime, quickly goes the hour 
 
 of joy, 
 But we counted not the moments when we were a girl 
 
 or boy; 
 But now, since we have grown older, precious are the 
 
 hours we spend, 
 Shorter, swifter, bolder, colder, until death will bring 
 
 the end. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 21 
 
 Section II 
 
 Oh, hear those glad voices now ringing, 
 The songs of the past they are singing; 
 
 The birds and the bowers, 
 
 The sunshine and show'rs, 
 Old Bethel to mind they are bringing. 
 
 We hear the old bass drum, bum, bumming, 
 And happy old memories humming; 
 
 With the step full of life, 
 
 To her drumming and fife, 
 Such thoughts of "Old Bethel" keep coming. 
 
 When near this old band with it playing, 
 We could not hear what we were saying; 
 
 Noah Grant played the fife 
 
 Nearly all of his life, 
 With harpers of past he is lying. 
 
 This band could be heard at the rallies, 
 With mixture of shouting and sallies, 
 
 When the old G. A. R. 
 
 Were reviewing the war; 
 No other band with it near tallies. 
 
 They played "The gal I left behind me," 
 And "Yankee Doodle" to remind me; 
 The old "Red, white and blue," 
 Gen'ral "Sherman's March," too, 
 And "Union forever" would find me. 
 
22 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Noah Grant was a fifer. Now listen, 
 He was once a captive in prison ; 
 
 He would whistle the fife 
 
 With an ex-soldier's life, 
 The .grit of a soldier was his'n. 
 
 Bill Wilson, the blacksmith, with hammer 
 
 Kept up a continual clamor, 
 With a ring-a-ling jing, 
 As his right arm would swing; 
 
 No man in "Old Bethel" was calmer. 
 
 He sharpened the plow and the harrow, 
 Set tires on log wagon and narrow ; 
 As a man of that day 
 He would sing, work and pray, 
 And look to the eternal morrow. 
 
 I see now the forge and the bellows, 
 Where often I stopped with my fellows ; 
 
 Down the hill we would run 
 
 To the office for fun, 
 To "Stout" they were ready to tell us. 
 
 Down there where they sold teas and coffees 
 They changed the "Old Bethel" postoffice; 
 
 Its name then was " Stout," 
 
 Till the new rural route 
 Now brings the mail right to all of us. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 23 
 
 Section III 
 
 There was the graveyard on the hill, 
 
 With melancholy slabs so white; 
 The church house, too, so solemn, still, 
 
 Where once we tried to learn the right. 
 Among the dead, the living said, 
 The very best of earth were laid; 
 But whether they were good or bad, 
 We knew some neighbor's heart was sad. 
 
 Fond parents buried children dear, 
 And children laid their parents here; 
 And neighbors left their home away 
 To weep with them on funeral day. 
 Death seemed to come to ev'ry door, 
 The strong and weak, the rich and poor; 
 Death changed the whole community, 
 For proof of this just go and see. 
 
 The names which were familiar then 
 In this graveyard for years have lain; 
 A few of us survive to-day, 
 But we are growing old and gray. 
 Soon we must drink death's bitter cup, 
 And by the grave be swallowed up; 
 The resurrection day shall be 
 Our only hope to set us free. 
 
 "Old Bethel," then, in every sense 
 
 Is not a new experience; 
 
 For every neighborhood, we know, 
 
24 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Must through the same like changes go. 
 And this is why I pen these lines, 
 That it may stir the readers' minds. 
 All timely things must pass away, 
 Prepare for that unchanging day! 
 
 Section IV 
 
 As I now remember the boys and the girls, 
 
 The fields and the woods, with their rabbits and 
 
 squirrels, 
 In summer or winter, with snowballs or flow'rs, 
 My heart has a longing for those happy hours. 
 My mind wanders back to the old country home, 
 Where quails in the autumn in coveys would come, 
 To pick up the kernels and sing, " Here are we," 
 With flutter and buzz to the thicket they'd flee. 
 
 The meadow lark soared with his clear morning trill, 
 The woodpecker hammered the snag with his bill ; 
 The bluejay was singing his "cheese and cheese 
 
 cheese," 
 With feathers all ruffled he'd other birds tease. 
 I long for the song of the robin redbreast, 
 To peep once more into the oriole's nest. 
 If I could go back to my boyhood again, 
 I'd greet with great pleasure the twit of the wren. 
 
 I'd love the barn martin more truly, I'm sure, 
 He is a bird welcome by rich and the poor; 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 25 
 
 As swift as the lightning with fluttering wings, 
 
 He builds his mud nest as he merrily sings. 
 
 The meow of the catbird, the coo of the dove 
 
 In sadness and meekness inviting my love. 
 
 The caw of the black crow, the bird we all know, 
 
 How awkward against the strong wind he would go. 
 
 The buzzard soared high away up in the sky 
 So easy and graceful, his wings spread awry; 
 He made perfect curvings around and around 
 Until he came down to his work on the ground. 
 The blackbird with " twitter, oh, twitter-te-whee," 
 Just look at them there in the top of the tree! 
 A color'd folks' meeting, all singing with glee, 
 It seems that no singers could happier be. 
 
 The redbird had music peculiarly his own; 
 We always regretted the redbird had flown. 
 The mockingbird often would strike the real note, 
 As he mocked other birds with his wonderful throat. 
 I'd scare them away from their home in the hay, 
 The snowbirds which came on a cold winter day. 
 There on the wheelbarrow I fed them with meal, 
 And with their sweet "tweet" back again they would 
 steal. 
 
 The wild geese would cry as they flew o'er our head 
 To where it was warmer, for so it was said; 
 Then back to a more Northern clime they would go 
 As soon as the summer sun melted the snow. 
 The music of nature, its golden sunbeams, 
 
26 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 The hills and the valleys and beautiful streams, 
 
 A grand panorama this view of the past, 
 
 But like "good old Bethel," these scenes can not last. 
 
 The birds of the barnyard, the chickens and ducks, 
 The quack and the cackle, and mother-hen clucks, 
 The crow of the rooster, the gobble of turk, 
 In memory's music are now all at work. 
 It tunes up my heart with its various praise 
 As I think of bygone and happier days. 
 Old " Bethel postoffice," you are gone evermore, 
 But neighbors can meet on that ever-green shore. 
 
 There cycles and ages will roll on and on, 
 Where God dwells our pleasures will never be done ; 
 We'll walk the gold pavement, transparent as glass, 
 No sorrowful partings will e'er come to pass. 
 From " Stringtown " and " Bethel," oh, may we all see 
 Those good old-time neighbors, and there by the tree 
 Of life, on the river where clear waters flow, 
 Where death, pain or sickness we never can know ! 
 
 Now, " Bethel postoffice," we bid thee farewell, 
 
 The reader may tire of this versatile spell; 
 
 But these impressions which truly appealed 
 
 To those who have rambled your woodland and field ; 
 
 Who noted the changes of fashions and ways, 
 
 But gladly remembers his earlier days. 
 
 God bless the grandchildren, both daughter and son, 
 
 W T ho fill up the places of neighbors bygone. 
 
 Richland, Mo., August 8, 1914. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 2j 
 
 THE OLD ORCHARD 
 
 The old home-place orchard now has all decayed and 
 gone, 
 
 But some lonely trees are scattered here and there, 
 Standing as if mourning now, so sadly and alone, 
 
 For their comrades of the past, so bright and fair. 
 
 Their shade fresh and cooling, and their bloom with 
 sweet perfume, 
 
 And their red and golden apples are unknown; 
 From the boughs the robin, and blue jay in his plume, 
 
 Partridge, tomtit, redhead, turtle dove have flown. 
 
 The husbandman paternal, whose voice by death is 
 stilled, 
 One time pruned and cultivated here the trees; 
 The round and perfect apples, which grew just as he 
 willed, 
 Made a tempting dish for those he wished to please. 
 
 By-gone days so happy, they will ever be no more, 
 Precious loved ones now by death have gone be- 
 yond ; 
 To know they are absent surely makes our heart ache 
 sore 
 And pleasures dull, of which we once were fond. 
 
 The big copper kettle and a brass one by its side 
 Were supported by a pole laid in two forks; 
 
28 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Patent apple peeler and the slicer were applied ; 
 No one idle there, but every fellow works. 
 
 The Vandevere, pippin, and the rambo, too, were 
 good, 
 
 Maiden blushes then were sometimes added in ; 
 Apple-butter stirrer, with a handle made of wood, 
 
 We stirred it till it was no longer thin. 
 
 No more cider pressing, the old mill has rotted down ; 
 
 Yellow jackets no more swarming in the sun ; 
 For vinegar dressing we must now go to some town, 
 
 For the home-place orchard is forever done. 
 
 The hick'ry nut cracking, and dried apples on the 
 string, 
 Dried beef broiling on the coals before the fire; 
 Now and then a riddle, oh, then how we all would 
 sing ; 
 How I long again to hear that happy choir! 
 
 Oh, the hewed log cabin, with its shedded kitchen 
 
 low, 
 
 And log stable, with their entries long and wide; 
 
 "Home-made" garden paling and rail fences all the 
 
 go, 
 
 And the well-sweep, with its curbing to one side; 
 
 There the peach orchard, and stock yard down the 
 road, 
 And the pasture, with its blue grass on the west; 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 29 
 
 Hewed log trough for water for the cattle, clear and 
 good, 
 Which we carried, while they drank it with a zest. 
 
 Riding in the bob sled to the meeting miles away, 
 Straw and comforts and with boys and girls a-load; 
 
 Listen to their laughter, with their hearts so light and 
 gay! 
 Frosty sleigh bells jingle, jingle long the road. 
 
 One more district spelling or a literary drill, 
 Social parties with their candy-pullings, too ; 
 
 Oh, the absent old home orchard brings a chill ! 
 Old Time has changed the old friends for the new. 
 
 Now you're old and feeble, your family in the grave, 
 Son and daughter (Thad and Ida) only left; 
 
 Time is swiftly flying, but each moment we must save, 
 "Rock of Ages," let us hide within thy cleft. 
 
 Soon death shall overtake us, our friends then for us 
 sigh, 
 Just as now we sigh for those, our loved and own; 
 Homes on earth so cheerful will soon take wings and 
 
 fly, 
 
 Just as the old home orchard now has gone. 
 
 Heavenly Father, teach us, and giude our wayward 
 feet 
 
 In paths of virtue, loyalty and truth; 
 Earthly homes are transient and our time is very fleet, 
 
 May our children think of Thee while in their youth. 
 
3 o POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Thankful for past blessings, house and orchard, barn 
 and fruit, 
 
 Friends tried and true we knew in former years; 
 Instruction in religion, the hope of heaven to boot, 
 
 When there we'll meet no more with sighs and tears. 
 
 THE BOYS' DEBATE 
 
 Now come and gather 'round me while unto you I 
 
 relate 
 How lads at " College Corner " used to hold a boys' 
 
 debate. 
 Those orators grew eloquent in their five-minute 
 
 speech, 
 With swinging arms and voices loud, the judges to 
 
 beseech. 
 "Resolved, the horse to man is much more useful 
 
 than the cow," 
 Or such like questions was enough to start the merry 
 
 row. 
 
 Jim 'rose with confidence and said: "I'm on the 
 
 horse's side, 
 For he is useful every whit, his hoofs, and hair, and 
 
 hide, 
 To drive him to a surrey or to draw a heavy load. 
 A cow is just a nuisance when you take her on the 
 
 road. 
 
POBTIC CONSIDERATIONS 31 
 
 A horse is good in races and they use them in the 
 
 war. 
 Cows would sure stampede and bawl when they'd 
 
 hear the cannon roar." 
 
 Hen rose. "I'm for the cow," he said, and smack- 
 ing loud his fist; 
 
 " The speaker for the horse has sure got things all in 
 a twist. 
 
 The cow can live on straw alone through storms of 
 every kind, 
 
 And when she's dead her hide will make best leather 
 you can find. 
 
 And leather's good for boots and shoes, black snakes 
 and harness, too; 
 
 Her meat is good when fried or dried, or made into 
 a stew." 
 
 Bill makes a speech, asserting : " I will take the horse's 
 
 part. 
 A horse can go a mile or two before a cow can start; 
 A horse can trot, or lope, or pace, or under saddle 
 
 rack ; 
 He takes you in a buggy with your girl to church and 
 
 back. 
 Would not Henry and his girl look nice riding 'hind 
 
 a cow? 
 How can they get around these points we're making, 
 
 anyhow ?" 
 
32 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Joe's time comes next, and now he says : " The cow 
 
 is sure ahead, 
 Judging from the speeches made and everything that's 
 
 said. 
 A cow is good for butter, and for cheese and milk, 
 
 of course. 
 How would you like a piece of beef made out of old 
 
 dead horse? 
 The warm milk from 'Old Brindle ' oft has saved a 
 
 baby's life, 
 And schmierkase made of clabber's mighty good, you 
 
 bet your life." 
 
 John says : " I give due credit to the horse that plows 
 
 the field, 
 And raises all the fodder and the corn the earth can 
 
 yield ; 
 He feeds the cow in winter, which so gives the flow 
 
 of milk; 
 So on this point we beat you, though your speech was 
 
 fine as silk. 
 A cow is not an ox or calf, nor is a cow a steer, 
 So they're not in this question we are now debating 
 
 here." 
 
 Steve steps upon the platform, then he makes a grace- 
 ful bow. 
 
 Says he : " In this contention I must hold up for the 
 cow. 
 
 To< cut out calf and ox and steer I think is a disgrace, 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 33 
 
 For the old cow is the mother of all the cattle race. 
 I say before I close my speech and make again my 
 
 bow, 
 There hain't a horse on earth can take the place of 
 
 the old cow." 
 
 Tom rises with determined look and wades into the 
 
 fray. 
 "The horses pull the hearses and the heavy-loaded 
 
 dray; 
 They hasten quickly on the way to catch the early 
 
 train, 
 They hurry for the doctor when you have an awful 
 
 pain; 
 They transfer from the station in a cab or in a hack. 
 A cow can go away from home, but when would she 
 
 get back?" 
 
 Jim concludes: "I now must close this great ques- 
 tion in debate. 
 
 The cow is good for many things I hain't time to 
 relate. 
 
 Cow horns make good knife handles, and combs both 
 fine and coarse; 
 
 No horns, or cheese, or buttermilk is furnished by 
 the horse. 
 
 I thank you, ladies, gentlemen, that you your presence 
 grace 
 
 This literary. Now the judges will decide the case." 
 
 Daybrook, W. Va., January 17, 191 5. 
 S 
 
34 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 THE EARTH 
 
 " The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof," 
 
 Though infidel, skeptic and atheist scoff 
 
 (All the same they would like here forever to stay) ; 
 
 God loaned it to man with interest to pay. 
 
 Its primitive woodlands were beards on its face, 
 
 With valleys it solemnly looks into space. 
 
 Its hills are its wrinkles of laugh at the stars, 
 
 And smiles as she winks at old Saturn and Mars; 
 
 The mountains and oceans are frowns and its scowls, 
 
 And wonderful treasures come out of her bowels. 
 
 The earth round the sun in a circle will go, 
 
 In one place is sunshine, another is snow ; 
 
 To cheer the despondent she faces the sun, 
 
 She brings on the night when your day's work is done. 
 
 The seedtime and harvest, the winter and spring, 
 
 The summer and autumn in season will bring. 
 
 The rivers and creeks are the earth's "lucky lines," 
 
 Her gulfs, lakes and bays all her freckles combines. 
 
 The falls and the cataracts make up her howls, 
 
 And wonderful treasures come out of her bowels. 
 
 The gold and the silver, the copper and lead, 
 The zinc and the iron are found in their bed ; 
 The brass and the copper, the cast and the steel, 
 The miner can all kinds of metal reveal ; 
 The shale for the pottery, clay for the brick, 
 Saltpeter and sulphur, so good for the sick. 
 
POBTIC CONSIDERATIONS 35 
 
 All kinds of mineral medicines found 
 Are hid in the mountains and deep under ground. 
 The caves make a covert for strange hooting owls, 
 And wonderful treasures come out of her bowels. 
 
 There's coal in the earth served as fuel so much, 
 
 It fires up the engines on railroads and such; 
 
 Makes electricity; in smith shop and mill 
 
 It fires up the forge to the workman's own will. 
 
 It. heats up the iron and melts up the glass, 
 
 It melts the gold money to each proper class. 
 
 The gas and the oil in her pocket are found, 
 
 Some men are made rich by a hole in the ground; 
 
 When poverty comes and calamity howls, 
 
 The earth gives them riches from out of her bowels. 
 
 "The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof," 
 
 But man is not satisfied here with enough; 
 
 He hoards up his riches and hungers for more, 
 
 And often oppresses the laboring poor. 
 
 Pulls down his old buildings to build greater barns, 
 
 His soul then for carnal security yearns. 
 
 He grows independent, forgetful of God — 
 
 Soul in eternity! his body a clod! 
 
 He begs now for water with other lost souls; 
 
 The earth can not save him, with all in her bowels. 
 
 This old earth will some day be wrapped in a flame, 
 Then what will be worth all her treasure and fame: 
 The richest of elements in her will melt. 
 What purpose of holiness, then, should be felt? 
 
36 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 All will be consumed in the fiery heat. 
 
 Are we all prepared the great Judge then to meet? 
 
 A new heaven and earth, where righteousness reigns, 
 
 With all the inhabitants free from their sins; 
 
 A home in the new earth for happified souls, 
 
 For she will be purified, surface and bowels. 
 
 ENCOURAGEMENT 
 (For Don Carlos Janes' Magazine.) 
 
 When the children learn to walk, 
 On life's journey they are bent, 
 
 Or when learning how to talk, 
 They must have encouragement. 
 
 If their letters they would learn, 
 That they may be competent 
 
 To an honest living earn, 
 
 They must have encouragement. 
 
 Then when later on in life 
 
 On their mission they are sent, 
 
 In the battle and the strife, 
 They will need encouragement. 
 
 If they suffer any loss, 
 
 Friends, or health, or money spent, 
 Though it may consume the dross, 
 
 They will need encouragement. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 37 
 
 When they weep those bitter tears 
 For the Church, Christ's body rent, 
 
 If they stand the world's cold jeers, 
 They should have encouragement. 
 
 When they near cold Jordan's wave, 
 
 And their life is almost spent, 
 Though they trust in Christ to save, 
 
 They will need encouragement. 
 
 And when the journal's edited, 
 
 In their holy mission pent, 
 And their work is credited, 
 
 Why not read " Encouragement " ? 
 
 MEMORIAL DAY 
 
 The boys in blue are old and gray, 
 The boys who kept our Nation's day; 
 They keep the step with feeble tread 
 In mem'ry of our noble dead. 
 
 The dead who in the battle fell, 
 When they were torn with shot and shell; 
 The dead who double-quick have stepped 
 That States in "Union" might be kept. 
 
 The dead who to the prison went, 
 
 In hunger and starvation spent; 
 
 They fought and died, our country saved, 
 
 Set free four million men, enslaved. 
 
38 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Lacking in duty would we be, 
 Since they have made our country free, 
 Should we forget their noble deeds, 
 Which richly thus supplied our needs. 
 
 Hence in this patriotic way 
 We meet on this Memorial Day 
 To praise heroic men who fought, 
 And human bondage brought to nought. 
 
 And saved the Stars and Stripes from shame, 
 And honored Washington's good name. 
 With Patrick Henry's burning words 
 Their death for liberty accords. 
 
 Remember now the parting time 
 Of lovers, sweethearts — how sublime ! 
 Their home and country were above 
 The tempting scenes of parting love. 
 
 The wife and children left behind, 
 Some unknown graves they can not find. 
 The thunders of the cannon's groan, 
 The glistening steel, the soldier's moan 
 
 While dying on the field alone, 
 When moon and stars above him shone, 
 While giving out his heart's warm blood, 
 His soul departed to his God. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 39 
 
 We cherished in our mem'ry bright 
 Those boys in blue who fought the fight, 
 And we must, too, our duty dare 
 To make our country free and fair. 
 
 Free from saloons and drunkenness 
 
 And every kind of wickedness ; 
 
 Free speech, free press, free schools and free 
 
 To share religious liberty. 
 
 And free from superstitious fate, 
 From union of the Church and State; 
 And thus in gratitude be true 
 To Union boys who wore the blue. 
 Pike's Peak, Ind v May, 1914. 
 
 JACK SIMPSON 
 
 "Jack Simpson's dead," 
 
 The message said ; 
 It filled my heart with pain 
 
 He hurried back 
 
 To cross the track, 
 Was run down by a train. 
 
 His bones were broke, 
 
 He never spoke! 
 Take up his mangled form. 
 
 Now he is gone, 
 
 He's not alone, 
 But safe from every harm. 
 
40 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Our neighbor, Jack, 
 
 Will not come back, 
 But we'll remember him, 
 
 His laugh and talk, 
 
 His daily walk, 
 His hustle and his vim. 
 
 A neighbor true 
 
 To me and you, 
 His wagon, fork or plow 
 
 He'd gladly loan; 
 
 Said: "Use them on, 
 When I don't need them now." 
 
 The one horse trade 
 
 I ever made, 
 A four-year-old horse, too, 
 
 Jack's mare even, 
 
 Only seven — 
 When she was twenty-two! 
 
 But not a word 
 
 Was ever heard, 
 We still continued friends; 
 
 But I swore off, 
 
 It was too tough; 
 Horse trade with me now ends. 
 
 Jack loved a joke, 
 And when he spoke 
 And said: "Bill Relethford 
 Used pepper so, 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 41 
 
 Both high and low, 
 On all he could afford," 
 
 Bill answered back: 
 "That's what you lack." 
 John says : " Bill never swerves ; 
 
 He pepper knows 
 
 On all things goes, 
 Molasses and preserves." 
 
 Stand, ride or walk, 
 
 Jack loved to talk, 
 A talker, natural born; 
 
 Could talk from morn 
 
 Till day was done, 
 Then talk from night till morn. 
 
 A soldier he 
 
 Once used to be; 
 He joked on pension day: 
 "In war, don't peach, 
 
 I lost my speech, 
 And now I draw my pay." 
 
 His talk would be 
 
 So very free, 
 Imagination's goods. 
 "Thad, how'd you like 
 
 No gravel pike, 
 Go jolting o'er the roads; 
 
 With two slow fools 
 
 In shape of mules, 
 
42 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 An old plank for a seat; 
 
 Below zero, 
 
 No laprobe, too, 
 Ten miles to county seat?" 
 
 Now would you think 
 Jack used to drink 
 And swear most awfully? 
 And he was loath 
 To quit them both, 
 But did it lawfully. 
 I was surprised, 
 He was baptized; 
 "New creature in the Lord!" 
 His talk was all 
 Of Christ and Paul, 
 And of the faithful Word. 
 
 Jack said: "Indeed 
 
 I can not read, 
 I'm not a learned man; 
 
 But mercy claim, 
 
 And 'tis my aim 
 To do the best I can. 
 
 I hope I won't, 
 
 I do not want, 
 At last a hell to see. 
 
 In endless bliss, 
 Where Jesus is, 
 I hope some day to be." 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 43 
 
 When life shall end 
 
 And God shall send 
 Death angels unto me, 
 
 Eternally 
 
 I hope to be 
 As surely saved as he. 
 
 Let heaven ring 
 
 And angels sing, 
 In glory bright and fair 
 
 I hope to meet 
 
 And loved ones greet, 
 And see "Jade Simpson" there. 
 
 ALTA VISTA'S COBBLER 
 
 Let us sing a few sweet strains 
 Of the Western Kansas plains, 
 
 And I mean not to be to you a troubler; 
 But I know you will take the time 
 Just to read this little rhyme, 
 
 Which I write of the Alta Vista Cobbler. 
 
 He is not so tall and straight, 
 
 Nor a pussy heavyweight, 
 I am sure no one can be to him a dobbler 
 
 Only one of his own kind 
 
 Will his business closer mind 
 Than this nervy little Alta Vista Cobbler. 
 
44 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 This man mends the people's shoes, 
 Sews or tacks them as they choose, 
 
 Fits them all, the straightened foot or hobbler; 
 Always busy work complete, 
 Half -sole work or heel made neat, 
 
 All are pleased and they bless the busy cobbler. 
 
 Several children to his name 
 Adds but to his well-earned fame, 
 
 For not a child among them is a fop, sir; 
 They're an honor to their sire, 
 Climbing higher up and higher 
 
 To maintain the reputation of the cobbler. 
 
 He our country helped to save, 
 Taught the Johnnies to behave, 
 
 Our Nation was compared then to a wobbler; 
 Then our subject took his gun, 
 Fought and saw the victory won; 
 
 All hats off to this patriotic Cobbler! 
 
 He's my brother in the Lord, 
 To the church a faithful guard; 
 
 I wish for him a New Year's turkey gobbler. 
 So here is my bouquet 
 To the Hoosier, Wilburn Day, 
 
 My friend, the busy Alta Vista Cobbler. 
 
 Lost Springs, Kan., December 18, 1912. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 45 
 
 MY WEAK WAY 
 
 The "Casey Jones" Christian 
 
 Oh ! I feel so much religion 
 That I talk it every day, 
 But I know for church expenses 
 
 That I can but little pay. 
 I have bought a few more acres, 
 And the notes I can not stay, 
 But I'm following my Savior 
 In my own weak way. 
 I want you all to know I'm following the Savior; 
 I sing and talk and pray of religion every day. 
 I want you all to know I'm following the Savior; 
 I am following the Savior in my own weak way. 
 
 Oh! the way I make the money, 
 
 You would greatly be surprised; 
 But the Lord's day contribution 
 I have always much despised. 
 I belong to several lodges 
 
 And my dues I have to pay, 
 But I'm following the Savior 
 In my own weak way. 
 Oh, I am strong and true to all my sever'l lodges, 
 
 I am strong and true and my dues I have to pay; 
 No member of my crew this duty ever dodges, 
 But I'm following the Savior in my own weak way. 
 
46 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 To support the gospel preacher, 
 
 Help the widow and her child, 
 Has a certain Christian feature, 
 
 To express it very mild; 
 And the poor are always with us, 
 
 Though I often turn away, 
 But I'm following the Savior 
 In my own weak way. 
 I know the young and old, big, little, and all ages, 
 By their hard work and toil have tried to earn 
 their pay ; 
 So let the men who preach get out and work for 
 wages ; 
 Now you see I follow Jesus in my own weak way. 
 
 Oh ! I never mind the weather 
 
 When I have some work to do, 
 For I know I'm tough as leather, 
 
 So I always rush it through; 
 But I can not go to meeting, 
 
 Windy, snowy or rainy day, 
 But I'm following the Savior 
 In my own weak way. 
 So in my work or play I never mind the weather, 
 
 But when I go to church it must be a pleasant day ; 
 In business and my lodge I must keep my ends to- 
 gether, 
 But I'm following the Savior in my own weak way. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 47 
 
 Oh! I like to hear the organ 
 
 And the singing by the choir, 
 And a fifteen-minute sermon, 
 
 A much longer makes me tire; 
 But maybe these ki old fogies" 
 
 Surely will die off some day, 
 But I'm following the Savior 
 In my own weak way. 
 I like the gospel truth, but must not be so narrow 
 That oysters won't be good should we have a 
 church's play; 
 I'm in a loyal church, but may not be to-morrow, 
 But I'm following the Savior in my own weak way. 
 
 In the baseball played on Sunday 
 
 I can see but little harm, 
 And the show of moving pictures 
 
 Has for me an awful charm; 
 Hence I often miss the meetings 
 
 On the Lord's appointed day, 
 But I'm following the Savior 
 In my own weak way. 
 I like to see the world and have a little pleasure, 
 
 Xo use to miss the fun and the frolic on the way ; 
 
 So when I have the time I take some little leisure, ' 
 
 But I'm following the Savior in my own weak way. 
 
48 POBTIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Oh! I like to hear good preaching 
 
 When it's not so awful plain 
 Against the sects or lodges 
 
 As to fill me full of pain; 
 But just let them tell the story 
 
 Of the bright, eternal day, 
 It is then I'm in my glory, 
 In my own weak way. 
 Oh, let them preach the truth, but not against the 
 lodges, 
 Nor yet against the sects nor the games we like to 
 play; 
 The preacher who these points in preaching surely 
 dodges 
 Is the one to make me happy in my own weak way. 
 
 Oh! the Gospel of Christ Jesus 
 
 Is the only plan to save, 
 And I know the name of "Christian" 
 
 Is the proper name to have; 
 And I know that the "one body" 
 
 Is the only scripture church, 
 But if we are not more faithful 
 It will find us in the lurch. 
 I know that Paul has said there is but "one baptism," 
 "One spirit" and "one faith," but "one Father" to 
 obey; 
 But I would feel the same for any other ism, 
 But I'm following the Savior in my own weak way. 
 Cincinnati, O., February, 1913. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 49 
 
 VIRGIE'S KITTEN 
 
 Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 
 I miss him at night when I turn on the light, 
 
 Where once he was curled in the chair; 
 I miss his gay romp and his quick-springing jump, 
 I see him no more anywhere. 
 Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 
 
 Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 
 
 His fur, soft as silk, when I fed him with milk, 
 
 I'd stroke from his head down his back; 
 In parlor and hall he would play with my ball, 
 Too swiftly to keep in his track; 
 Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 
 
 Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 
 
 Out in the feed house he would watch for a mouse ; 
 
 No rat could escape with his life. 
 As swift as the breeze, he could run up the trees, 
 A stranger to trouble or strife. 
 Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity ' 
 
 Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity!. 
 One dark, stormy' night kitty cried in a fight 
 
 With" a big, mean, old, ugly cat: 
 I heard kitty's moans, with his poor, broken bones; 
 Oh, killfnafold cat' with" a slat! 
 Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 
 
5 o POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Our pretty white kitty is dead ; what a pity ! 
 
 No cat was more bright, with a coat of pure white, 
 
 So far as I ever have known ; 
 His bright eyes of pink would so lovingly blink, 
 But now my white kitty is gone. 
 Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 
 
 Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 
 They tell me I cried when our white kitty died, 
 
 I know I was pained in my heart ; 
 But now kitty knows not the woes of his foes, 
 This makes it more easy to part. 
 Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 
 
 Odessa, Mo., December 14, 1913. 
 
 BYGONE DAYS 
 
 Oh, those bygone days gone by, 
 When many joys did multiply, 
 When each the other one to see 
 Was glad, to share his company. 
 
 Oh, those bygone days! gone by! 
 
 Oh, when will these clouds roll by, 
 When we can hear our brother's sigh, 
 And weep with him and with him cry, 
 And this before our friends all die — 
 
 Oh, when will these clouds roll by? 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 51 
 
 COURAGE, SOLDIER, FIGHT 
 
 Oh, shall we be discouraged if the friends we love 
 forsake us, 
 Or shall we shrink from duty when the storm 
 clouds now arise? 
 Oh, must we now give over, when the woes of life 
 o'ertake us, 
 Or shall we still press onward, toward the mark 
 for the prize? 
 
 The God of our salvation still hath wisdom, grace 
 and pardon 
 To give unto the soldier who will fight the battle 
 fair, 
 Who never more his heart against the loving call will 
 harden, 
 And all his holy counsel in its fullness will declare. 
 
 The world knew not the Savior, nor esteemed his 
 good behavior, 
 But scorned his indignation at the awful sins of 
 men. 
 Then why is it surprising, if we see the foe uprising, 
 With fair and goodly speeches guard the way of 
 secret sin ? 
 
 Though it may not be poetic, it is certainly prophetic 
 That such deceitful teachers would "make mer- 
 chandise of you"; 
 
52 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 The righteous they outnumber, but their judgment 
 does not slumber, 
 For in their carnal warfare they would rout the 
 chosen few. 
 
 Oh, hear " To arms !" ye soldiers, in the conflict do 
 not cower, 
 " Principalities and powers" must be met in open 
 fight; 
 For the weapon of our warfare is the gospel of 
 God's power, 
 And with Jesus as our captain we'll be never put 
 to flight. 
 
 With sin have no alliance, bid the secret cliques de- 
 fiance, 
 Their symbolic hieroglyphics are but Christless in 
 their aim. 
 Great synagogues of beauty, built by their ill-gotten 
 booty, 
 And their mixture of religions, will but make the 
 Christian lame. 
 
 That friends misunderstand us should not be allowed 
 to strand us, 
 Man's "assuming jurisdiction" cause us not to 
 quake nor fear; 
 God's holy love will band us, with his army safely 
 land us, • .. 
 
 Christ, "the Captain of Salvation," makes us feel 
 that "God is 'near." 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 53 
 
 Sectarian traditions and unscriptural additions, 
 And the vain imaginations of the sordid, fleshly 
 mind, 
 Conspire against and fight us, in pretending good 
 they slight us, 
 And it takes a valiant soldier to be bold and still 
 be kind. 
 
 How soon the war is ended and with holy ones 
 attended, 
 Sweeping through the pearly entrance to the city 
 of our God; 
 To reign with God eternal, and to drink of joys su- 
 pernal, 
 Will be their sweet fruition who the heavenly road 
 hath trod. 
 
 Fight on, be brave, be bolder, never wait till time 
 grows older, 
 The day of our salvation is "the present," "now," 
 "to-day"; 
 The loss is to the sinner, but the prize is to the 
 winner ; 
 Courage, soldier, fight the battle till discharged, and 
 get your pay. 
 Sumner, III., April, 19 12. 
 
54 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 NICKEL THEATERS 
 
 Oh, how do you know, whenever you go 
 To see moving pictures in a nickel show, 
 That you can be sure that all will be pure 
 And free from temptations and sins to allure? 
 Theatrical plays have very vain ways; 
 
 True servants of God do not act on the stage. 
 In manner and dress they surely profess 
 
 Response to the carnal desires of the age. 
 
 Men acting with sleights, with women in tights, 
 
 Are not quite suggestive of morals, you know; 
 It purity blights, then where are your rights 
 
 With presence and money to sanction the show? 
 The world sees you there, and at you will stare 
 To think of you sharing in "Vanity Fair"; 
 It seems to one strange to see no great change 
 Since you joined the church and your faith did declare. 
 
 Your chances are slim to ever win him, 
 
 Although you may pray and entreat him with vim; 
 
 He's led to maintain "religion is vain," 
 
 From all forms of evil let Christians abstain. 
 
 The devil don't care, for if you are there, 
 
 The theater is never opened with prayer; 
 
 The play never wins a soul from his sins, 
 
 And at your profession the devil just grins. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 55 
 
 Tis better to weep, to lose restful sleep, 
 
 Than to giggle and laugh at the fictitious page; 
 Much better a tear or trembling with fear 
 
 Than the charm of the fool who may act on the 
 stage. 
 Then let us have grace and all keep our place 
 
 With reverence awful, and with godly fear, 
 Then true to the Lord, obeying his Word, 
 
 We all can then with him in glory appear. 
 
 POODLE-DOG WOMEN 
 
 Some women dress so awfully, 
 
 I don't see how they can, 
 When decent folks do lawfully 
 
 Set forth a better plan. 
 If you would know they're up to date 
 
 (I don't say this for fun), 
 Just look when they are on the street 
 
 Between you and the sun. 
 
 With dresses cut way down the back, 
 
 And also down the front, 
 For length of sleeves in goods they lack, 
 
 A Paris fashion stunt! 
 As thin as gauze and tight as skin, 
 
 Too short for any use. 
 Against God's will they surely sin 
 
 And common sense abuse. 
 
56 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 " Sassiety " their talk, oh, my ! 
 
 They all belong to clubs ; 
 They're squeezing, as the days go by, 
 
 More money from their hubs. 
 A baby is an "awful thing"! 
 
 And little children " brats"! 
 And all the love they have they bring 
 
 To poodle dogs or cats. 
 
 But they are great for women's rights, 
 
 And on the platform go, 
 And spend the late hours of the nights 
 
 In lectures so and so. 
 They take their poodle dogs along 
 
 On trains and in hotels; 
 Your stomach surely would go wrong 
 
 To see them cut their swells. 
 
 They kiss the little poodle pets 
 
 And hug them to their breasts; 
 They take a napkin while he frets, 
 
 To make his little nest. 
 They tie pink ribbon on his neck, 
 
 And on his tail anon; 
 It's hard to tell, the fuzzy " trick," 
 
 Which end their heads are on. 
 
 They 'dorn themselves with jewelry, 
 Big bracelets and fine rings; 
 
 They paint their cheeks, thus fooling you, 
 That they are pretty things. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 57 
 
 They lead their poodles with a chain 
 
 Or carry in their arms, 
 Or talk their baby talk so vain, 
 
 To flaunt their doggie's charms. 
 
 They take these poodles for a ride 
 
 In carriage or machine, 
 And in the seat right by their side 
 
 The doggie can be seen. 
 The poodles do not seem to care 
 
 With what old thing they stay. 
 Such dogs need pity, I declare, 
 
 To be brought up that way. 
 
 Oh, for a Eunice and a Lois, 
 
 Such women pure and true, 
 To teach the Scriptures to their boys, 
 
 As mothers ought to do. 
 Who their good husbands will obey, 
 
 As Sarah, Abraham; 
 To see their girls go not astray 
 
 And fall through fashion's sham. 
 
 Who love their children and their home, 
 
 And will not them disgrace, 
 And teach the poodle dog that comes 
 
 To keep a poodle's place. 
 A Christian mother is the best 
 
 Of all the names on earth ; 
 May we by more of them be blest 
 And check this awful dearth. 
 
58 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 THE HENPECKED HUSBAND 
 
 Unfortunate the man 
 
 Who has a scolding wife; 
 We know he never can 
 
 Be happy in this life. 
 He dreads her mortal frame, 
 
 And crouches at her words; 
 She can his name defame 
 
 Like unto vicious hordes. 
 
 His will he dare not speak, 
 
 He must get a permit; 
 He speaks, but like a sneak, 
 
 She tells him when to quit. 
 He must no secret know 
 
 But to her he must tell; 
 But should he treat her so, 
 
 Oh, then she raises ? ! ! 
 
 She talks with snarl and spat, 
 
 Like some old, peevish cat; 
 Til warn you he can not 
 
 Do this now or do that. 
 He wishes, then, he could 
 
 Spend all his time at lodge, 
 For then he knows he would 
 
 All this wild fury dodge. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 59 
 
 She searches through his pants 
 
 And rakes up all his change; 
 And go, give her a chance, 
 
 She must have all the range. 
 She's all society, 
 
 And fashion is her talk, 
 But lacks in piety 
 
 And humble, godly walk. 
 
 There is no government 
 
 Compared to " petticoat " ; 
 She, rule or ruin bent, 
 
 Is bound to "get his goat." 
 And fortunate is he 
 
 When dead and in his grave, 
 He then no more shall be 
 
 A prating woman's slave. 
 
 If she should wed again, 
 
 Oh, may she get a man 
 Who will his place sustain 
 
 And follow out God's plan; 
 A man with will and nerve, 
 
 As head his house to rule; 
 Not merely "Betsy" serve, 
 
 But let her go to school. 
 
 To school to learn her place, 
 
 As modest women should, 
 To shun the old disgrace 
 
 When she was cross and rude. 
 
60 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Her husband then can love, 
 She then can him obey; 
 
 Together they can prove 
 The strait and narrow way. 
 
 THE ISLEY BOYS 
 
 When I was but a little lad, 
 
 In cold and snowy winters, 
 To kindle fire, what time I had ! 
 
 I picked up chips and splinters. 
 Too little then to use an ax, 
 
 Light chores would keep me hopping. 
 'The Isley boys" (now these are facts) 
 
 Would come and do our chopping. 
 
 Tap" paid them meat or corn or meal, 
 
 Or money if they'd rather; 
 A log pile would to them appeal 
 
 In coldest kind of weather. 
 Two cross-cut sawed, and one would split, 
 
 Then all three — chips were flying! 
 From early morn till time to quit, 
 
 Sundown — the day was dying. 
 
 The Isley boys were good to work, 
 They loved each as a brother; 
 
 Hard workers, too, not one would shirk, 
 Cared for their widowed mother. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 These Isley boys I don't forget, 
 
 They used to be so handy; 
 Shuck corn or butcher, don't you fret, 
 
 The Isley boys were "dandy." 
 
 In summer they would plow the field, 
 
 Grub fence rows free from bushes, 
 Cut down the snags, big log heaps build, 
 
 Made piles and piles of brushes. 
 They digged across the low, wet farm, 
 
 Most three spades deep the ditches; 
 The timber tile was all the charm, 
 
 Such tiling sure enriches. 
 
 They'd pick the apples in the fall 
 
 And hole them up 'fore freezing, 
 And all their work which I recall 
 
 To father was well pleasing. 
 To Samuel, Marion and Ike 
 
 My compliments in writing; 
 Just read or pass it, as you like, 
 
 It is not me you're slighting. 
 
 These Isley boys are men of years, 
 
 Acquainted now with sorrow ; 
 They've seen few joys, but many tears, 
 
 May they be glad to-morrow ! 
 When their life's sun is sinking low, 
 
 This prayer is from their neighbor, 
 That when they from this earth may go, 
 
 They rest from all their labor. 
 
62 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 SLIGHTED LOVE 
 
 The mother loved her precious child, 
 
 While growing, her love also grew ; 
 In sympathy so kind and mild, 
 
 The mother's love is always true. 
 She looks upon its innocence, 
 
 And hopes the future may unfold 
 A character of moral sense, 
 
 More precious than the purest gold. 
 
 The child by death would take its flight; 
 
 She prays to God: "Oh, spare its life!" 
 A faithful vigil through the night, 
 
 She dreams not of its coming strife. 
 She smooths the fevered brow aright, 
 
 She can not see the coming day 
 When this pure child, so young and bright, 
 
 May go from duty's path astray. 
 
 A boy or girl — oh, wonderful! 
 
 Immortal spirits here to train; 
 To teach them in the church or school 
 
 The purest conduct to maintain. 
 But, oh! when they do go astray, 
 
 They bring upon their house a cloud; 
 Though mother happy was one day, 
 
 Now prays for death, the grave and shroud! 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 63 
 
 The sweetheart loves her lover dear, 
 
 The one that she had almost won ; 
 Her heart is made to ache with fear 
 
 Because he loves another one. 
 She begs in piteous tones to him, 
 
 And weeps aloud upon his breast. 
 He weeps until his eyes grow dim, 
 
 But can not put her heart to rest. 
 
 He marries one that he most loves, 
 
 He sees no more his weeping friend; 
 Memories oft his spirit moves, 
 
 Her health declines till death — the end. 
 Divided hearts are mysteries, 
 
 Mistakes of youth, how very sad! 
 God only knows such histories, 
 
 Only his love can make them glad. 
 
 Husband or wife may prove untrue, 
 
 As many do in this our day; 
 Sorrow of sorrows when they do, 
 
 And thus break up their homes that way. 
 When they forget the marriage vow 
 
 And flatter others with their words, 
 Oh. how true love is slighted then, 
 
 Whose love with loyalty accords ! 
 
 Parents and children are disgraced, 
 They never can live down the shame; 
 
 Their confidence has been misplaced, 
 
 They know their loved ones are to blame. 
 
64 POETIC CONSIDER A TIONS 
 
 The guilty ones unhappy were, 
 And retribution then they feared; 
 
 Now they don't realize the "where," 
 Because their consciences are seared. 
 
 "No greater love hath man than this, 
 
 That one should die for his own friends;" 
 But Jesus died for enemies, 
 
 From glory to the earth descends. 
 No class distinction with the Lord, 
 
 He loves you and will save you now, 
 But "Whosoever" is the word; 
 
 Oh, sinner, to his mandate bow ! 
 
 How can you slight redeeming love? 
 
 Angels in heaven would rejoice 
 And sing around the throne above 
 
 To know you made the precious choice. 
 Oh, listen! o'er yon precipice 
 
 The lost souls into hell must move; 
 "Gnashing!" "Wrath!" the "Wail!" and "hiss!' 
 
 Because they slighted heaven's love. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 65 
 
 AN EX-SLAVE'S RELIGION 
 (Isa. 35:8.) 
 Oh, I know I has got 'ligion, 
 I am happy as a pidgeon 
 
 Which de hawks and owls do miss. 
 I am on de road to heaben, 
 I be dar when I done liben 
 In a wicked worl' like dis. 
 
 Oh, I know I has got 'ligion, 
 
 'Ligion dat am undefiled ; 
 Oh, de Jordan got a bridge on 
 For dis brack and weary child. 
 
 I'se no longer wid dem niggers 
 Who at 'ligion laffs and sniggers, 
 
 Sho as Lincum set us free; 
 I is shouten now and singen, 
 An' my soul wid joy am ringen, 
 Jesus am so deah to me. 
 
 I'se no longer cross and snappy, 
 
 'Ligion am a certain cure; 
 I'se more loven like an' happy 
 Since I know my heart am pure. 
 
 Oh, dis worl' knows little ob me, 
 I dun know no fill-o-soff-fy, 
 
 No deep science of de schools; 
 But I know I don't trust in em, 
 Fo' dis 'ligion am agin 'em, 
 5 
 
66 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Like it am to larned fools. 
 
 It am good to tend de colledge 
 
 And your head wid larnin' fill, 
 But much better am de knowledge 
 
 Ob my Sabior's bressed will. 
 
 It am not all in my feelin's, 
 
 Noh my motions strong appealing, 
 
 Fo' I heah de widdah's cry; 
 An' my soul am not all dotted, 
 Fo' I keep myself unspotted 
 
 From dis worl, in which we die.- 
 Fokes, I tell ye no use talkin' 
 
 'Bout your dreams and how you feel, 
 Less de narrer road you're walkin', 
 Whar no thieves break in nor steal. 
 
 Oh, de debbil wants us slaven, 
 An' to keep on un-be-haven 
 Till he pull us in de fire; 
 But de Lord will 'mancipate us, 
 De ole Satan den may hate us, 
 
 But de Lord say, "Come up higher." 
 Now no longer serb de debbil, 
 Leab yo' sinful ways behind, 
 Den sho' as yo' head am lebbel 
 Yo' can full salvation find. 
 
 Dis old worl' am full ob shoddy, 
 But my soul lubs eberybody, 
 And dere's room for ebery one; 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 67 
 
 Halleluyah! glory! glory! 
 Won't you listen to de story? 
 God has giben us his Son. 
 
 Oh, I know I has got 'ligion, 
 'Ligion pure and undenled; 
 Oh, de Jordan got a bridge on 
 For dis brack and weary child, 
 
 Daybrook, W. Va v January 14, 191 5. 
 
 EQUALITY 
 
 Our old Brother Chinks most certainly thinks 
 
 We must not give much to the preacher; 
 The preacher must preach and publicly teach, 
 
 Because he's a talented creature. 
 No salary goes, for every one knows 
 
 No Christian would preach just for money; 
 The audience frets and the preacher forgets, 
 
 For his words do not drip down like honey. 
 
 A nickel and dime won't pay for the time 
 
 To help the poor man in his study; 
 His brain works and plans, he toils with his hands, 
 
 No wonder his sermons are muddy. 
 His children and wife, the dear ones of life, 
 
 Look to him for "special" provision; 
 But when he has failed, his honor assailed, 
 
 He then must be held in derision. 
 
68 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Some churches will plan and send for a man 
 
 To hold them a protracted meeting; 
 They all fix the price so easy and nice 
 
 Before he can give them a greeting. 
 They figure no shoes, nor two suits of clothes, 
 
 Nor carfare both ways when he travels ; 
 They give him some cash, but think him quite rash 
 
 When he his own story unravels. 
 
 Clothes, 'phone, light and coal and doctor's bills roll, 
 
 Death is no more certain than taxes ; 
 Feed, groceries, books, spool thread, eyes and hooks, 
 
 Expense cuts like scissors and axes. 
 A herald to roam away from his home, 
 
 He speaks to the rich of their duty ; 
 He oft meets with scorn, with feelings forlorn 
 
 He notes they hold fast to their booty. 
 
 The sure gospel plan is for every man 
 
 To bear his own share of the burden ; 
 But all who neglect, or duty reject, 
 
 Have trouble in crossing the Jordan. 
 "Equality," then, and fellowship when 
 
 We all have a part in this mission ; 
 So on with the work, let none of us shirk, 
 
 Thus share in the eternal fruition. 
 
 FairviEw, W. Va., January 14, 1915. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 69 
 
 IN MEMORY OF LOLA YOUNGER 
 
 Dear reader, I will here submit 
 
 Some verses from a sister true 
 When I was sick, and thus unfit 
 My gospel labors to pursue; 
 Sore in lungs, with fevered brow, 
 
 I almost counted death my friend; 
 These verses do refresh me now, 
 
 As I approach my journey's end. 
 Twenty years have passed away, 
 
 Lola Younger since has died; 
 I spoke her praise on funeral day, 
 
 She rests with Christ, the crucified. 
 
 "Beyond the blue and fleecy veil 
 The starry-dotted zenith lies, 
 The land for which you're longing here, 
 Immortal in the skies. 
 
 "Ere long the opening veil reveals 
 
 To thee the land where is no death, 
 Where all the faithful ones shall be, 
 And breathe immortal breath. 
 
 "A few more years of toil and pain, 
 And life as vapor fades away, 
 And all the faithful enter in 
 To the immortal day. 
 
7 o POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 "Toil on and save the souls of men 
 
 In patience labor for the Lord; 
 Oh, count it joy to preach to them 
 The pure, immortal Word. 
 
 "Then rest beyond the fleecy veil, 
 Where in repose and grandeur lies 
 The land for which you're longing here, 
 Immortal in the skies. 
 "Bedford, Ind. Lola Younger/' 
 
 Lola, you was then concerned about my health; 
 Frigid death has come upon your track by stealth 
 
 And took you first. 
 But I never have forgot your kindness yet; 
 On that land for which I longed my heart is set, 
 
 I still do thirst. 
 
 Oh, I often think of thee and Leatherwood, 
 And of Robby, too, your husband kind and good; 
 
 Your cottage home; 
 Of those maple-shaded hills and rippling rills. 
 Time that bright spot in my memory never kills 
 
 Where'er I roam. 
 
 A boy preacher was I then, and nothing more; 
 I was always happy when I reached your door, 
 
 With much to learn. 
 Your words of cheer and your sympathetic tear 
 Always seemed to heal and drive away my fear 
 
 At every turn. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 71 
 
 Did enthusiasm ever grow more keen 
 
 Than when the many who came to Christ were seen 
 
 And were immersed? 
 The Leatherwood Church was crowded ev'ry night; 
 Of love and duty, our privilege and right, 
 
 Were all rehearsed. 
 
 Those bygone days, once so happy, could not last; 
 You have missed the many trials, as they passed, 
 
 We all have shared. 
 Your poetic soul is now, as once you said, 
 In that bright and happy land where are no dead. 
 
 You well have fared. 
 
 MILLENNIUM 
 
 We're gravely told by sages wise, 
 The angel coming from the skies 
 
 Is Christ, and he will Satan bind. 
 They tell us this is literal; 
 That makes the Lord most natural 
 
 An angel! Get it in your mind? 
 
 The thrones and those who on them sat, 
 They don't agree; it's tit for tat; 
 
 But other parts are mighty plain (?). 
 U I saw the souls." They're certain, sure; 
 Are righteous all, no less, no more, 
 
 Who are all resurrected then. 
 
?2 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 But, then, God's Word is very plain 
 That only martyrs who were slain 
 
 Are ever mentioned in that text. 
 How can they reason and be fair 
 To have all other righteous there? 
 
 I wonder what they'll figure next. 
 
 Those martyrs, those beheaded ones, 
 To God were true as his own sons ; 
 
 To them was image worship sin. 
 John saw their " souls " ; he did not say 
 It was a resurrection day; 
 
 But these new doctors work it in. 
 
 John says not yet one word about 
 How bodies from the grave come out, 
 
 Nor how the Lord will stretch "the hour/' 
 Nor how amid disease and pain, 
 Will glorified in person reign 
 
 One thousand years to show his power. 
 (John 5: 28, 29; Daniel 12: 2.) 
 
 Their theory they beg to live, 
 Yet we must prove a negative! 
 
 But this is not the worst of all : 
 The Lord will here in person be 
 A thousand years, where all can see. 
 
 Right here on this old sin-cursed ball ! 
 
POBTIC CONSIDERATIONS . 73 
 
 The wicked here can multiply, 
 Go on increasing, till they die; 
 
 The righteous will be glorified. 
 But they can never marry then, 
 Make love to women or the men, 
 
 But must in single life abide. 
 (Matt. 22: 30.) 
 
 Their home will be a sin-cursed earth, 
 Where filthy waters do gush forth, 
 
 Where thorns and thistles will abound. 
 Charles T. gives sinners then a chance, 
 But others say they must go hence 
 
 Into the lake of fire to drown. 
 
 (They say) The second resurrection shall 
 Be those who're raised to go to hell; 
 
 And then they say will come "the end." 
 But if you for the truth now thirst, 
 John only mentions there the first. 
 
 The fifth verse now to you I send. 
 (Rev. 20: 5.) 
 
 Rest of the dead lived not again 
 
 Till none of " thousand years" remain; 
 
 This resurrection is the first. 
 Why call them wicked, when the Lord 
 There calls them blessed in his Word? 
 
 It's even bad, and worse and worst. 
 
74 . POBTIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 But after all their theory 
 
 We can all in this chapter see 
 
 A general resurrection told; 
 From hades, sea and grave they come, 
 For their life's record see the sum 
 
 In books, then open plain and bold. 
 
 (Rev. 20: 11-15; Matt. 25: 31-46.) 
 
 Plainly implied that some are there 
 Whose names are on the pages fair, 
 
 Yes, written in the book of life; 
 For some whose names were not there found 
 Were to the lake of fire cast down 
 
 Because of wickedness and strife. 
 
 The heavens must the Lord receive, 
 If Peter's words we can believe, 
 
 Till prophet's words are all fulfilled, 
 And restitution of all things 
 The general resurrection brings, 
 
 With death and grave forever stilled. 
 (Acts 3: 21; Acts 2: 34, 35.) 
 
 'Tis clear to him who reads and runs, 
 As Paul in Thessalonians ; 
 
 With angels, then, our Lord descends 
 To punish those who disobey, 
 And from his presence drive away, 
 
 Forever there to make amends. 
 
 (I Thess. 4: 13-18; II Thess. 1: 7-10.) 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 75 
 
 The righteous stand at his fight side, 
 The righteous shall be glorified; 
 
 They "meet the Lord up in the air, 
 So shall they ever be with him." 
 I'll never trade this for a whim, 
 
 Or Russell's doctrine, so unfair. 
 (Jude 14, 150 
 
 When Jesus comes this earth will burn, 
 No more " for sin " shall he return ; 
 
 He then no more will mediate. 
 New heaven and new earth shall be 
 A dwelling place for you and me, 
 
 A wholly righteous state. 
 
 (II Peter 3: 4-14.) 
 
 What resurrection, then, is told 
 In Revelation's symbols bold, 
 
 Where figures are so rife? 
 To be consistent it can be 
 A moral resurrection, see? 
 
 An inspired view of moral life. 
 
 You ask of me to give the date. 
 
 John does not say. Why should I state? 
 
 Why should I guess at things for you? 
 But, plain as day, it is before 
 The general resurrection's o'er, 
 
 That's if I have the proper view. 
 
;6 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 If brethren hold another view, 
 They're none the less disciples true; 
 
 One body, spirit and one hope, 
 Baptism, Lord and faith are one; 
 "One Father" of each daughter, son, 
 We can against division cope. 
 
 (Eph. 4: 1-6.) 
 
 THE ROBIN 
 
 Oh, Robin, Robin Redbreast, 
 
 First herald of the spring, 
 Come once more and break my rest, 
 
 Your morning song to sing. 
 Gladly waking from my sleep, 
 
 I listen to your trill ; 
 In my mind the contrast keep 
 
 With lonesome Whip-poor-will. 
 
 Hopping, hopping, on the lawn, 
 
 You show your breast of gold; 
 Singing at the early dawn, 
 
 The sunrise to behold. 
 Swiftly, deftly on the wing 
 
 To where we can not see, 
 There, sweet Robin, still you sing 
 
 Your welcome chip-o-ree. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 77 
 
 In the pear tree build your nest, 
 
 And there feed your quartette; 
 Teach them note by note your best, 
 
 Four singers in the set. 
 Thus your music to the world 
 
 Has brought immortal fame; 
 Back and forth on wing you twirled 
 
 And praised your Maker's name. 
 
 All the summer with your song 
 
 And in the frosty fall, 
 Cheerful as the days go long, 
 
 We hear your music call. 
 Zero comes, we miss you then, 
 
 The winter now is here; 
 Soon the spring will come again, 
 
 Then Robin brings us cheer. 
 
 There is some sadness in your note, 
 
 But cheering is your song; 
 Have you had your feeling smote, 
 
 Or did you suffer wrong? 
 April showers in the sun, 
 
 Spring in full appears ; 
 Your sweet music still goes on, 
 
 Singing through its tears. 
 
 Oh, could man be pure and free 
 
 As you. Oh, precious bird, 
 Singing loud your chip-o-ree 
 
 Amid the world's discord. 
 
78 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Unpolluted thou with sin, 
 You make our hearts regret; 
 
 Praying on our knees again: 
 "Oh, God, our faults forget!" 
 
 You are doing good, my bird, 
 
 Aside from bugs and worms, 
 By your singing we have heard, 
 
 And all your other charms. 
 Oh, Robin, Robin Redbreast, 
 
 Sweet angel of the tree, 
 Thank you. Now my pen may rest 
 
 Oh, sing your chip-o-ree! 
 
 THE GOSPEL AGAINST SHODDY 
 
 (Rev. 19: 8.) 
 
 The same is the spirit of all innovators, 
 
 They come from all classes of vain speculators; 
 
 For God's holy Word and its proper division, 
 
 They subject to change by their own supervision. 
 
 Their creeds are but human, their by-laws no better; 
 
 They claim to extract them from God's holy letter; 
 
 And then they mix with it their own human notions, 
 
 To give to the sects and the world their due portions. 
 
 Their aim is to suitably please everybody; 
 
 But the Gospel of Christ is opposed to such shoddy. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 79 
 
 If we should quote Paul in his word to Galatians, 
 They say we throw clubs at the denominations. 
 Just read the first chapter, the eighth and ninth verses, 
 And see if the sect preachers will not receive curses. 
 In the seventeenth of the sixteenth of Romans, 
 " Smooth words and fair speeches " are very bad 
 
 omens. 
 If the Church of Christ would be sure of salvation, 
 "Come out and be separate" as one "holy nation." 
 For sectism smiles if we drink of their toddy, 
 For the Gospel of Christ is opposed to such shoddy. 
 
 They say when we censure the use of the organ: 
 "The Scriptures are silent." Then why all this jar- 
 gon? 
 Societies, suppers, Sunday schools, come by voting; 
 A preacher consoles them by his sugar-coating. 
 We say that God gave us, by his divine power, 
 "All things unto godliness ;" then how they look sour ! 
 We then read Colossians at two one and twenty; 
 They want no more Scripture, for that is a plenty 
 To sentence their issues as sensual and soddy, 
 For the Gospel of Christ is opposed to such shoddy. 
 
 These lovers of sin on a plain gospel preacher 
 Will look with contempt as a horrible creature; 
 Because he will preach against their secret orders, 
 They hinder and fain would drive him from their 
 
 borders. 
 They blackball the Savior, and the sound of the gavel 
 
80 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Is an echo of darkness, of sin and the devil. 
 They're robbers of churches of Christ of their duty, 
 To build synagogues and great halls with their booty. 
 They forfeit their souls for the good of their body, 
 But the Gospel of Christ is opposed to such shoddy. 
 
 And compromise preachers, who claim to be loyal, 
 Are found in their ranks, as if they were royal. 
 They will open their mouths and cry out like thunder, 
 To make innovators and sectaries wonder. 
 But call their minds back to their infidel brother, 
 Who hates the Lord Jesus, but calls God his Father, 
 Then they are so mute — oh! they can say "hobby," 
 And still pay their dues in their own secret lobby. 
 They will fellowship pagan and deistic oddies, 
 But the Gospel of Christ is opposed to such shoddies. 
 
 The men of the world, who look on as the scornful, 
 Are standing with sinners, nor care for the mournful ; 
 Their passions control them, in faith they are wanting, 
 And those who are weak in the faith they are taunting. 
 But 'tis easy enough for lovers of sin to 
 Believe in no heaven they can not get into; 
 And natural, too, for sinners to doubt of 
 A hell which they fear they can not keep out of. 
 " Pure-white linen " can be worn by everybody, 
 But the Gospel of Christ is opposed to all shoddy. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 81 
 
 THE ROOSTER-PECKED WIFE 
 
 A woman who a man must keep, 
 
 Who ought to be her lover, 
 Who will into her fancies peep, 
 
 But feels himself above her ; 
 Who uses her as some old squaw 
 
 To do his dirty labor ; 
 No wonder oftentimes the law 
 
 Cuts twain like sword or saber. 
 
 He seeks the honors of his time. 
 
 But honors not his lady; 
 He leaves her in a social slime, 
 
 To others tips his cady. 
 She feels the slight and often weeps, 
 
 But keeps her home inviting ; 
 She wonders where his time he keeps, 
 
 And why his home he's slighting. 
 
 He's so polite to girls and gents, 
 
 To mothers and their daughters; 
 He helps from carriage or the fence, 
 
 Or cross small streams of waters; 
 But to his wife calls: "Come on, Lib!' 
 
 He's in an awful flurry; 
 Says'unto Lib: "None of your jib? 
 
 Yqu know I'm in a hurry." 
 
82 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Such men should never have a wife, 
 
 Or else be made to support her; 
 Treat her as well in married life 
 
 As when he went to court her; 
 And not to leave her all alone, 
 
 With babes he has begotten ; 
 She's "flesh of flesh and bone of bone,' 
 
 This should not be forgotten. 
 
 He growls at her if dinner's late, 
 
 But often keeps her waiting; 
 And though her work is up to date, 
 
 He's always underrating. 
 If he could know her aching heart, 
 
 How near unto despairing, 
 He'd surely do a husband's part, 
 
 With his old love declaring. 
 
 He spends his time in lodge or club, 
 
 Diseased with social rabies; 
 A lion thinks more of her cub 
 
 Than he does of his babies. 
 His wife wants sugar or glass jars, 
 
 He whines about expenses ; 
 Buys drink, tobacco and cigars 
 
 Like one who lost his senses. 
 
 Poor, broken spirit, kind and mild, 
 To live with such a being; 
 
 Was he not father of her child, 
 She might from him be fleeing. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 83 
 
 May he be to repentance brought 
 
 And ask to be forgiven, 
 Heirs of grace which Jesus brought, 
 
 And both get home to heaven. 
 
 MY LIKES 
 
 I like to hear the twit, twit of the wren, 
 
 I like to hear the cackle of the hen; 
 
 I like to hear the rooster call his cock-a-doodle-doo, 
 
 I like to gather up the eggs, so good for me and you. 
 
 I like to see the swelling of the buds, 
 
 I like to do the planting of the spuds; 
 
 To see a growing garden as I tend it with a hoe, 
 
 There is no better recreation anywhere I go. 
 
 I like to walk the furrow when I plow, 
 
 I like to pitch the hay up in the mow ; 
 
 I like a team of horses that can walk, or pull, or trot, 
 
 So that anywhere you put them they are "Johnny on 
 
 the spot." 
 
 I like to see the growing of the fruit. 
 
 To pluck it from the tree when it may suit ; 
 
 To eat the grapes and berries, and the melons from 
 
 the vine, 
 Apples, pears and peaches and the plums, so very fine. 
 
84 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 I like a jolly visit from my friends, 
 
 No one a better hour ever spends; 
 
 To hear of their successes, their reverses and their 
 
 cares, 
 To know that when we're parted we will have each 
 
 other's prayers. 
 
 I like to preach the Gospel to a crowd, 
 To make a plea for sinners strong and loud; 
 To take their good confession, in the water to im- 
 merse, 
 Their privilege and duty in God's service to rehearse. 
 
 But when the meeting's over I am done, 
 
 I like to buy a ticket and be gone ; 
 
 I like to see my home again, and loved ones who 
 
 are there, 
 To talk, and eat, and sing with them, and bow with 
 
 them in prayer. 
 
 I like to share with them the tears and smiles, 
 To plan together for the after whiles; 
 And when our work is over, we no longer here abide, 
 I'd like then to be buried with my dear ones by my 
 side. 
 
 When to the Jordan River I am come, 
 I'd like in heaven then a welcome home; 
 To bid farewell forever to all sorrow, sin and woe, 
 Qn golden streets be singing with the loved ones who 
 will §o^ 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 85 
 
 4 
 
 STREAMS AND DREAMS 
 
 The West Virginia streams 
 Are like life's varied dreams. 
 
 Among the West Virginia hills 
 Are babbling brooks and rippling rills; 
 The water, clear as crystal, flows, 
 Sparkling and curving, onward goes. 
 Now flowing smoothly o'er the stone, 
 Then suddenly a change of tone; 
 A dash o'er precipice or rock, 
 With splashing, roaring in the shock. 
 
 Again so quiet, calm and still, 
 It winds around the circling hill, 
 Unto the narrow vale below, 
 Into a larger stream they flow. 
 The stream is deeper, broader now; 
 The thirsty horse and sheep and cow, 
 Which graze the meadows near its banks, 
 Drink, and reflect therein their thanks. 
 
 Its banks are green in summer time, 
 Bare and serene in winter clime; 
 It tarries not, but onward flows, 
 By springing buds or frigid snows. 
 Birds warble in o'erhanging bowers, 
 While bees are humming 'mong the flowers 
 Inspired, the poet notes the chime, 
 And writes his feelings into rhyme. 
 
86 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 It turns the mill to grind the grain, 
 It beautifies both hill and plain; 
 It sings while running o'er the sand, 
 "The waters of that sunny land," 
 As clear as crystal from the throne, 
 Where "we shall know as we are known. 
 So, whether in the plain or hills, 
 Praise Go 1 for brooks and rippling rills! 
 
 It frowns when shadows cross it run, 
 But smiles and glistens in the sun ; 
 It represents the joys of life, 
 The music of the drum and fife, 
 The dancing of our childhood glee, 
 Or old age with its misery; 
 The happy days of bygone youth, 
 The depth and beauty of "the truth." 
 
 When in the obstacles that rise, 
 Which make it dash toward the skies, 
 Then fall and on its course pursue, 
 'Tis then it acts like me and you, 
 When tossed with troubles not a few, 
 Our passion and our pride subdue. 
 As in its changeful, onward course, 
 So are our lives from mouth to source. 
 
 We can not stop swift-flying time, 
 Nor make the prose of life to rhyme ; 
 But whether in the shade or sun, 
 Our race in life must still be run. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 87 
 
 Though rough or smooth, it might have gone 
 
 Like streams of water flowing on, 
 
 It still a duty has performed 
 
 By draining, it the waste transformed. 
 
 Of waters falFn in time of storm, 
 
 It drains the overflowing farm ; 
 
 Here grows the golden grain and fruit, 
 
 Flowers and foliage to suit. 
 
 And as it flows toward the sea, 
 
 Our lives reach to eternity; 
 
 Its waters reach the ocean waves, 
 
 So may we dwell with Christ, who saves. 
 
 OUR PRAYER 
 
 (Time, "America." ) 
 
 Our Father's God to thee 
 Preserve our liberty 
 
 And peace of mind. 
 Oh, may our land be free 
 From war's great misery, 
 And with good will to be 
 
 T'ward all mankind. 
 
 Oh, hear us while we plead, 
 While other nations bleed, 
 'Mid roar of guns; 
 
POBTIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 While shot and shrapnel fly, 
 While thousands groan and die, 
 While mothers wail and cry 
 For fallen sons. 
 
 Let monarch's pride go down, 
 Let forces break the crown 
 
 Which rules by blood. 
 Let love and peace abound 
 O'er Europe's bloody ground, 
 And service true be found 
 
 To thee, our God. 
 
 God bless our President, 
 And those who with him lent 
 
 Their word and power. 
 With war in other lands, 
 Oh, God, uphold their hands, 
 That we in peaceful bands 
 
 Be saved from war. 
 
 Oh, may our country lead 
 Against unholy greed 
 
 And every sin. 
 Preserve our liberty, 
 Let Church from State be free, 
 We pray, oh, God, to thee, 
 
 Through Christ. Amen. 
 
 November 4, 1914. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 89 
 
 THE BOYS 
 
 Old Time is here, with laugh and cheer, 
 
 With sorrow and disaster; 
 And he has told on lads of old, 
 
 They think now time goes faster. 
 And boys to-day, just by the way, 
 
 With future all before them; 
 Let us not yet these boys forget, 
 
 Oh, let us not ignore them. 
 
 What can we say? The boy to-day 
 
 Must be the man to-morrow; 
 So let their lives be free from strife; 
 
 Past time we can not borrow. 
 Environ them with every gem 
 
 Of virtue and of justice; 
 They'll read the page in our old age, 
 
 And will not fear to trust us. 
 
 My mind runs back along the track 
 
 To woodlands and wild berries ; 
 The old home farm, with orchard charm, 
 
 Peach, apple, plum and cherries. 
 To bars that slide, to pastures wide, 
 
 Where once we drove the cattle; 
 Where neighbors good so gladly would 
 
 Assist us in life's battles. 
 
go POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Barefoot we pass o'er the green grass, 
 
 And stepped upon the thistle ; 
 We hunted then the chipmunk's den 
 
 And made our hickory whistle. 
 With joke and song the creeks along, 
 
 With gun and fishing tackle; 
 We bathed and fished just as we wished, 
 
 No sporting laws to shackle. 
 
 We gathered nuts and pulled sweet roots, 
 
 And climbed the bending sapling; 
 With agile peace we ran the race, 
 
 In wrestling match were grappling. 
 With calves and colts we took the jolts 
 
 In breaking them to halter ; 
 Such work or play, from day to day, 
 
 Ne'er caused "the boys" to falter. 
 
 Time with her wings, those childish things, 
 
 Kept fanning from our vision ; 
 But though a man, I never can 
 
 Hold childhood in derision. 
 And, oh, how sweet 'twould be to meet 
 
 Those boys once more together; 
 To see each man, matured, with plan, 
 
 In faith, life's storm to weather. 
 
 But, oh, how sad, some are now dead! 
 
 Their graves o'er earth are scattered; 
 We find some men, though happy then, 
 
 With joy and hope all shattered. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 91 
 
 But there are few so brave and true 
 
 Who would not follow sinners ; 
 As in the game, they are the same, 
 
 The strong and happy winners. 
 
 Oh, hail the boys with childhood joys! 
 
 Who know not of the morrow, 
 Of worldly cares or sinful snares, 
 
 And dream not of their sorrow. 
 Let flowers spring and warblers sing, 
 
 And skies be bright to cheer them; 
 Give counsel sweet to guide their feet, 
 
 And may no wrong come near them. 
 
 PREACHERS' WIVES 
 
 Do you hear that dove, so lonely, 
 
 Sadly cooing for its mate? 
 Do you see its bosom swelling 
 
 With the sadness of its fate? 
 Now, just think, can you imagine 
 
 Its dear mate so far away, 
 Likewise sighing, sadly sighing, 
 
 Longing for its mate to-day? 
 
 Saw "a sheep led to the slaughter" 
 From the nervous, bleating flock; 
 
 Did your heart beat any faster 
 
 When you heard the weeping stock? 
 
92 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Sold the calf — expense defraying; 
 
 Listen, hear its mother call. 
 Hear the horse's anxious neighing 
 
 For companions of the stall. 
 
 If you have a kindly feeling 
 
 For the horse, cow, sheep or dove, 
 Let the wives of gospel preachers 
 
 Share your sympathetic love. 
 While the preacher on his mission 
 
 Goes from home into the field, 
 Sowing seed so free and broadcast, 
 
 Truly anxious for its yield. 
 
 Often he is blamed for failure 
 
 In the meetings he must hold; 
 People will not come to hear him 
 
 Through the wind, sleet, rain or cold. 
 Then he longs to see his loved ones, 
 
 Often wishing they could come. 
 It blows ! It snows ! Hear him praying 
 
 " Bless my lonely wife and home." 
 
 Long may seem the nights, so dreary, 
 
 And monotonous the day; 
 Lonesome wife ! with burdens weary, 
 
 While the preacher is away. 
 Oh, ye blessed, precious women ! 
 
 Shining be your heavenly crown; 
 Heavy here your cross and losses, 
 
 To the world almost unknown. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 93 
 
 God above, who sees in secret, 
 
 All will openly reward 
 For privations you have suffered 
 
 While your husband sows "the Word." 
 They, true soldiers, "endure hardness," 
 
 For their brethren give their lives ; 
 May there fall God's richest blessings 
 
 On all faithful preachers' wives. 
 
 PONE TOWN CAT FIGHT 
 
 In Pone Town, in the West Virginia State, 
 
 One moonless, dark and cold and misty night, 
 Some things to you I now wish to relate 
 
 About two cats in banter for a fight. 
 Jerry, a neighbor cat, would start the row ; 
 
 He perched himself high on the backyard fence 
 And gave an awful, hideous meow-oh wow! 
 
 And then old Tom he growled in self-defense. 
 
 Old Tom was hid and sheltered by the porch, 
 
 But he was not afraid in any sense ; 
 In the dark, his eyes were flaming like a torch 
 
 At Jerry, sitting there upon the fence. 
 Old Jerry bowed his back, and bluffed and dared; 
 
 Old Tom replied with spit, and snarled and snapped I 
 But neither cat seemed at the other scared; 
 
 Tom seemed to think that he was handicapped. 
 At last old Jerry ventured to the ground, 
 
 Old Tom with wrath gave, trim, an awful scream; 
 
94 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 The noise was heard in every part of town, 
 In darkness four cat eyes were all a-gleam. 
 
 Jerry says : " I dare you now to come out here," 
 While back and forth he dodged in front of Tom; 
 
 Said Tom: "I'm coming now, the coast is clear." 
 With awful indignation he would come. 
 
 Then came the unwelcome music of the night; 
 
 They scratched and screamed and fought each other 
 till 
 Said Wilbert Moore: "That is an awful fight; 
 
 If they don't quit I'll have them both to kill." 
 But they continued with their yell and roar, 
 
 No sleep until this war is at an end. 
 They bumped their heads against the kitchen floor, 
 
 Their screams the stillness of the night did rend. 
 
 Their painful ouch, oh wow-ee wow-ee yow ! 
 
 You'd better quit your biting me, ne-ow ; 
 You was the first to dare me, any he-ow — 
 
 A. E. I. O. U. W. Me yow ! 
 Wilbert, with gun, into the darkness ran ; 
 
 Bang ! went the gun, and all was quiet then ; 
 Back against the hills the echoes rang, 
 
 Until the night was still as death again. 
 
 The shot scattered, so also did the cats; 
 
 Unceremoniously they depart ; 
 The fight was over 'fore you could say "Scats!" 
 
 To quarrel so is never very smart. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 95 
 
 Let us from this one shot a lesson take, 
 And never quarrel with our neighbor here; 
 
 For sudden judgment may this old earth shake, 
 Then we could never read our title clear. 
 
 OBSERVATION 
 
 Oh, where is the gospel preacher, 
 
 In his missionary zeal, 
 Who would go to " every creature" 
 
 With his cry of "woe or weal," 
 All concerning the eternal, 
 
 Or the last of human state; 
 That will find the anxious hearer 
 
 Who will gladly for him wait? 
 
 Who will crowd around with hunger 
 
 For the precious bread of life, 
 And will seek for help and refuge 
 
 From life's woe and bitter strife? 
 The great multitudes, where are they 
 
 When he lifts his earnest voice? 
 Ah! business, worldly pleasure, money, 
 
 Are the chief of human choice. 
 
 As we travel through the valley, 
 O'er the mountain, hills and rough, 
 
 Men will smoke and chew tobacco, 
 And some women will use snuff. 
 
96 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Some "hain't" time to read the Bible, 
 But they study fashion plates; 
 
 Spend their moments, worse than idle, 
 Whirling 'round on roller skates; 
 
 Or they witness brutal football, 
 
 To the baseball they must go; 
 Every worldly exhibition, 
 
 Every passing nickel show. 
 Many rings upon their fingers, 
 
 Chains and bracelets for display; 
 Watch and locket gain attention, 
 
 Not to keep the time of day. 
 
 Boys and girls are ever training 
 
 How to play the basketball ; 
 But they care not for the meaning 
 
 Of the preacher's gospel call. 
 They are eager in the contest, 
 
 Just to win a crowd's applause — 
 What care they about religion, 
 
 Or for Christ's most holy laws? 
 
 Girls are taught the tango dancing, 
 
 How to act upon the stage; 
 Trained to frolic and to revel — 
 
 Entertainment's all the rage. 
 Boys and girls will read cheap stories, 
 
 And their pillow on their bed 
 Has a ten-cent novel under, 
 
 And on top a ten-cent head. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 97 
 
 Only few the " strait way" travel — 
 
 Jesus said 'twould thus be so ; 
 Multitudes the broad road thronging, 
 
 On the downward slope they go. 
 We should never be discouraged 
 
 While God's holy will we do, 
 But rejoice we're counted worthy 
 
 To walk with the chosen few. 
 
 If the way we go be crowded, 
 
 We may well begin to doubt 
 That we walk the way of wisdom, 
 
 And had better turn about, 
 Seek the Lord, who will have mercy, 
 
 And the pardon of our God; 
 Leave vain thoughts and ways behind us 
 
 For the way the faithful trod. 
 
 TEMPERANCE 
 
 When Rosa died 
 The neighbors cried, 
 For she was very good and kind. 
 In her short life was found no guilt 
 She saw the angels on her quilt 
 The night she died ! 
 And I have tried 
 To ever keep these things in mind. 
 
 7 
 
98 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 When Rosa died, 
 Just by her side 
 Her father stood and wept aloud; 
 It seemed to bring him to his mind, 
 For he had been very kind 
 Before she died; 
 But he had tried 
 To often make her life a cloud. 
 
 When Rosa died 
 Her father cried — 
 Ofttime strong drink had made him rash; 
 But Rosa kneeled beneath the gum 
 And prayed that he would quit his rum. 
 When Rosa died 
 Her father cried 
 As if his very heart would crash. 
 
 Since Rosa died 
 Her father died — 
 How grand! he made his peace with God; 
 And Rosa met him with a smile 
 Where no saloons can be the while 
 The Savior reigns; 
 And on those plains 
 No drunkard ever more can trod. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 99 
 
 WHY SHOULD WE FEAR TO DIE? 
 
 (John 5:28,29; 11 125.) 
 Why should we fear to die? 
 
 Life's battles would be over then ; 
 
 Xo anxious care would tire the brain, 
 
 Xo dread disease would weary us; 
 
 God's promises are cheering us. 
 Why should we fear to die? 
 
 Why should we fear to die? 
 To leave this world of sin and woe, 
 Where to the flesh the people sow, 
 And reap corruption as they go, 
 'Tis but a transient home below. 
 
 Why should we fear to die? 
 
 Why should we fear to die 
 When all our friends are dying, too? 
 This earth will fail, be made anew. 
 No mother then will, weeping, tell 
 How her poor son or daughter fell. 
 
 Why should we fear to die? 
 
 Why should we fear to die? 
 The Savior died for you and me, 
 The resurrection offer's free; 
 The righteous will be saved at last, 
 With all their woes and sorrows past. 
 
 Why should we fear to die? 
 
ioo POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Why should we fear to die? 
 But let me live to "preach the Word," 
 To point the sinners to the Lord, 
 And help to plant the cause of Christ, 
 Opposing every wrong device, 
 
 Then I'll not fear to die. 
 
 Why should we fear to die? 
 Should we come back in future years, 
 Strangers we would find in tears, 
 The tombstones of our friends decayed; 
 In paradise we would have stayed. 
 
 Why should we fear to die? 
 
 Why should we fear to die? 
 'Twould be the end of graveyards then, 
 Of weeping women, dying men, 
 Of homeless children and the shroud, 
 And hearse, and coffin-solemn crowd ! 
 
 Why should we fear to die? 
 
 Why should we fear to die? 
 To die is but a change of state 
 For one of love and free from hate; 
 Lord, help us walk the righteous path, 
 Fearing not this temporal death, 
 
 Or we'll forever die ! 
 
 Stout, Ind. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 101 
 
 THE WABASH BRIDGE 
 
 Good-bye, old covered bridge ! We miss you now, 
 And over your charred frame with feeling bow. 
 We heard the shrieking whistle in the night, 
 And in the western sky beheld the light; 
 We left our bed and through the darkness ran, 
 And, oh, the winding sheet of flame we scan! 
 
 Your members floating on the river made 
 
 A cloudy pillar, both of light and shade; 
 
 And shooting flames their burning embers sent, 
 
 Far and wide they fell in mourning color, spent; 
 
 A writhe and twist — we heard thy groan and splash 
 
 Into the river with an awful crash! 
 
 You served your time; now you lie as dead, 
 Slowly smoldering in the river's bed. 
 You saw the day when covered wagons passed 
 Under your roof toward the golden West; 
 And if you did the traveler's name enroll, 
 You well remember where they paid their toll. 
 
 The plodding oxen teams of long ago 
 
 Have gone with loads on sleds or wagons through. 
 
 The pioneer will drop a tear and sigh, 
 
 With him his friends have crossed in days gone by; 
 
 Two generations now have come and gone, 
 
 Both ways you bore them all, and passed them on. 
 
102 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Your time has seen the forest trees cut down, 
 The toiler in the clearing of the ground; 
 Then prairie fields and modern homes appear, 
 "From east and west you heard the same good cheer. 
 You stayed till horse and carriage now must hike, 
 For autos, motorcycles and the bike. 
 
 Your post of duty did with beauty blend, 
 North and south along the river bend; 
 Across the level to the river bluff — 
 For glory, just one look was proof enough. 
 Trees, bushes, ferns — the bank one living green, 
 Or wintry snow with gorge of ice were seen. 
 
 Lovers and sweethearts now will think again 
 
 Of your covert entrance there to "Lovers' Lane," 
 
 Where Wabash sycamores would veil the moon 
 
 While loving hearts would there enjoy a spoon, 
 
 In promenade or ride from ridge to ridge, 
 
 But now they'll miss "the Wabash Covered Bridge." 
 
 In time of storm, when waters splashed and roared, 
 You stood, in calm and storm alike — adored. 
 As thou hast bridged the Wabash safely here, 
 Under your roof we passed without a fear. 
 So may we by as faithful life.be blest, 
 And safely cross the Jordan to our rest. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 103 
 
 LET US SING 
 
 We have heard the wondrous story 
 How the Savior came from glory. 
 And, O God, we do implore thee 
 
 Not to measure up our sins; 
 For thy loving word impels us 
 That we can not be rebellious, 
 And thy Holy Spirit tells us, 
 
 Faithful is the one who wins. 
 
 Oh, this world has its temptations, 
 Full of snares and aggravations, 
 But the gospel of all nations 
 
 Is a cure for every ill. 
 And although from God we wander, 
 Over sinful lusts we ponder, 
 Still he calls from over yonder: 
 
 " I have mercy for you still." 
 
 Oh, how many times we've stumbled, 
 At thy providence have grumbled, 
 But, O Lord, we now feel humbled; 
 
 Will you hear our pleading cry? 
 Oh, be gracious and receive us, 
 Oh, be merciful, forgive us, 
 For our sins do sorely grieve us; 
 
 Leave us not alone to die. 
 
104 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Soon this earth life will be ended, 
 And with holy ones attended, 
 Who to glory have ascended 
 
 To their home beyond the skies. 
 When we meet from every nation 
 Those who heard "the invitation," 
 We shall hear them sing " salvation " 
 
 Love and pleasure never dies. 
 
 A GRAVE IN WISCONSIN 
 
 I stood by a grave in Wisconsin, 
 
 The grave of my dear brother Jim; 
 I read on the tombstone the writing, 
 
 It was a brief history of him. 
 'Twas only the date of his birthday, 
 
 And also the day that he died; 
 His life knows the angel of records. 
 
 I stood by his tombstone and cried. 
 
 I stood by the grave of my brother 
 
 And thought of how short seemed the time 
 When James left my father and mother 
 
 And home for a northwestern clime. 
 His arms around the neck of my father, 
 
 How sadly their weeping and moans; 
 How long a farewell was there spoken, 
 
 Now both have gone to their long homes. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 105 
 
 A soldier he was in two armies, 
 
 The flag of the Union his love; 
 He also fought under King Jesus, 
 
 Who rules in the armies above. 
 He fought in this army with merit 
 
 The good fight of faith to the end, 
 And Paradise now holds his spirit 
 
 Till nations of dead wake again. 
 
 Away from his home and relations 
 
 Poor James had to lay down his life, 
 No brother or sister or mother, 
 
 No one but his own faithful wife. 
 But God gave him friends full of pity, 
 
 Lord bless them wherever they be, 
 And give them a home in that city 
 
 With all who are faithful to thee. 
 
 Farewell, sleep sweetly on, my brother, 
 
 The time will not be very long, 
 We can again meet one another 
 
 And join in the "no-parting" song. 
 No lonesome graves on hill or mountain, 
 
 No strangers on that golden strand; 
 We'll drink forever from the fountain 
 
 The waters of that sunny land. 
 
 Excelsior, Wis., March, 1887. 
 
io6 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 HEB. 13:4 
 
 Who knows the heart of him who courts a maid? 
 
 (I Samuel 16: 7.) 
 Whether for love, or wealth, or plans he's laid, 
 To steal her beauty (Prov. 30: 19), wound her heart 
 
 (Matt. 5:28), 
 Or for a wife, to do her part (Prov. 18:22) 
 To help him in his mission (Gen. 2:20). 
 
 Who knows the heart of her who charms the lad, 
 Whether her aims are good or purpose bad? (Prov. 
 
 6:24,25.) 
 Or will she ever love a man 
 
 And give to him her heart and hand (I Cor. 11:9), 
 And share his life's fruition? (Prov. 31: 10, 12.) 
 
 Who knows the pain of a lover's quarrel? (Col. 5 : 13.) 
 Forgive they would, but can't forget the broil; 
 And hence celibacy so rife 
 Has many causes in the strife (Gen. 29: 11) 
 To flee the lone condition. 
 
 Bachelor or maid; it's no disgrace, I trow, 
 
 But "man to be alone" is out of place I 'low (Gen. 
 
 2:18). 
 "His father, mother, he shall leave (Eph. 5:31), 
 And to his wife forever cleave," 
 
 Companion of submission (I Peter 3:6). 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 107 
 
 Old maid! a fruitless vine (I Tim. 2: 15) with with- 
 ered leaves (I Tim. 5:14); 
 Old bach ! an old dead tree, of boughs bereaved. 
 The problem thus of human life (Mark 8:36) 
 They never solve as man and wife (I Cor. 7:2), 
 Unfortunate decision. 
 
 "As Christ loved the Church, husbands, love your 
 
 wives" (Eph. 5- 2 5)> 
 "As heirs together of the grace of life" (I Peter 3:7). 
 And let the wife due reverence show (Eph. 5:33) ; 
 God's purpose in the marriage vow 
 
 Let both give recognition (Gen. 1:28). 
 
 IF ONLY 
 
 If only in the trying hour 
 
 We'd curb our human nature, 
 We shortly would acquire the power 
 
 To grow in moral stature. 
 And strong become in Spirit might, 
 
 In Christian toleration; 
 And thus contending for the right, 
 
 Enjoy the great salvation. 
 But should the carnal man arise, 
 
 Determined on his ruling, 
 It need not be a great surprise 
 
 To find a bitter schooling-. 
 
io8 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 If only in self-interest, 
 
 When we would be most careful, 
 We should regard our friends, at least, 
 
 And be a bit more prayerful; 
 If only from his own viewpoint 
 
 We'd see the matter plainer, 
 He might not seem so out of joint, 
 
 Such fool, or near profaner. 
 But like us, "made of the same clay," 
 
 We both will have our failing; 
 Him nothing owe, but love and pay, 
 
 Nor magnify his ailing. 
 
 If only when "heat, tempest, storm," 
 
 Be in our weaker brother, 
 We only would our sentence form 
 
 And help this storm to smother. 
 For we're not perfect yet, you know, 
 
 In Christian grace not wizards, 
 While we against his heart will blow 
 
 Our cold and icy blizzards; 
 Or while we from our frigid heights 
 
 Will lightning flash and thunder, 
 With flakes of malice use our might 
 
 To snow our brother under. 
 
 If only now Christ's "healing beams" 
 Could melt the frigid nature 
 
 And cool the "tempest heat," it seems, 
 And make us "one new creature"; 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 109 
 
 If we the Lord would only hear, 
 
 As faithful sons and daughters, 
 We on life's ocean need not fear 
 
 The storm or troubled waters. 
 If only to those heights we climb 
 
 Above all wicked leaven ; 
 If only" as a phrase of time 
 
 Will not be heard in heaven. 
 
 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 When that awful day shall come 
 
 In the resurrection morn, 
 Then our blessed Savior's words 
 Will not meet with idle scorn; 
 For the deeds that we have done 
 "In the body," 'neath the sun, 
 "We'll receive," his Word has said, 
 "Whether they be good or bad." 
 
 Oh, when that awful day we see, 
 Where will we spend eternity? 
 
 When that awful day shall rise 
 As a light across the skies, 
 All men's sins will be revealed, 
 Naught of them will be concealed. 
 
no POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Those who do the Master's will 
 For the harvest will be ripe, 
 
 While the sinner, "filthy still," 
 
 "Will be beat with many a stripe." 
 
 Oh, when that awful day we see, 
 Where will we spend eternity? 
 
 Let us offer not strange fire 
 
 In our holy sacrifice; 
 Hymns and psalms and songs of praise 
 
 Let our adorations rise; 
 Let no innovation move 
 Between us and those we love; 
 All offensive things will burn 
 When the Master shall return 
 
 Oh, when that awful day we see, 
 Where will we spend eternity? 
 
 "Indignation, anguish, wrath" 
 
 Upon every soul of man 
 Walking not the truthful path, 
 
 But in pleasure making gain. 
 Woe to those the wine glass tip, 
 To those who put it to their lip; 
 The great salvation do neglect — 
 The awful recompense, how great! 
 
 Oh, when that awful day we see, 
 Where will we spend eternity? 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS in 
 
 OLD PENIX 
 
 Old Penix taught the Stringtown school, 
 But he was not so strict to rule; 
 He tried by kindness in his way 
 To bless the school in work or play. 
 He'd laugh at the mischievous boys 
 And chuckle at their awful noise. 
 The trustee heard of it, no doubt — 
 He came and turned "old Penix" out. 
 
 The child said " Penix" in that day, 
 For "Phenix" was too hard to say; 
 He met us children with a smile 
 So kind and pleasant all the while; 
 We loved him in return, you know, 
 And could not see why he should go. 
 It surely put our wits to rout 
 To have them turn "old Penix" out. 
 
 The school sure had a lively day 
 
 When boys and girls could have their way: 
 
 So when old Penix turned his back, 
 
 Something would hit the wall "kerwhack!" 
 
 Before he could pick up the rod, 
 
 He knew it was a paper wad; 
 
 With puzzled look he turned about — 
 
 But then they turned ''old Penix" out. 
 
ii2 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Pepper-te-pop, with whack-te-boom, 
 The wads were flying across the room; 
 He cried out "Stop" to no avail, 
 The wads were coming thick like hail. 
 The girls were dodging 'hind their seat, 
 The boys were standing on their feet 
 Just laughing to almost a shout; 
 That's why they turned "old Penix" out. 
 
 They made bad faces — funny grins, 
 And pricked each other then with pins; 
 When in a scuffle, bumped their pates, 
 Made ugly pictures on their slates. 
 They blacked each other's faces, too, 
 With soot from out the old stove flue. 
 The teacher hated it, no doubt — 
 But then they turned "old Penix" out. 
 
 One day the trustee walked right in; 
 Said he : " Such conduct is a sin ; 
 Look at the paper on the floor! 
 This teacher can teach here no more. 
 Your faces are indeed a sight, 
 Smeared on with smut as black as night!" 
 Sure as I know what I'm about — 
 Right there he turned "old Penix" out. 
 
 The school went home, both large and small, 
 With feeling of regret in all ; 
 "Old Penix" went away in tears, 
 And though it has been forty years, 
 
POETIC COXSIDBRATIOXS 113 
 
 I've learned that love must never screen 
 The follies of the low and mean ; 
 For if they do, there is no doubt, 
 Like Penix, they will be turned out. 
 
 Some parents are too soft in turn ; 
 Then let them from " old Penix " learn, 
 Who let their children now run wild, 
 Who spare the rod and spoil the child. 
 And preachers in pretense of love 
 Will not the open sins reprove; 
 But those who serve the Lord in doubt 
 May find themselves some day ''cast out." 
 Richmond, Mo., August 8, 1914. 
 
 JUDGE NOT 
 
 (Matt. 7:i-5-) 
 'Judge not, or you'll be judged," is true, 
 Your judgment will return to you; 
 Impugning motives of a friend 
 Will find you loser in the end. 
 Your motives, too, he'll misconstrue, 
 Your judgment will come back to you. 
 
 Fault-finding, "beam" in our own eye, 
 May hinder us the truth to spy, 
 To see the good that others do, 
 Or credit for their purpose true, 
 
ii 4 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 And hence occasions for a fuss. 
 Such judgment will come home to us. 
 
 Interpret words with charity, 
 A brother may have written thee ; 
 If then his meaning you can't see, 
 No doubt he will explain it free. 
 Such confidence in him may prove 
 The winning of a brother's love. 
 
 Rebuking men for doing wrong 
 And making loyalty their song, - 
 While they with secret cliques and clans 
 Will organize and all join hands, 
 Swearing, mocking rites, they claim. 
 Their judgment will come home to them. 
 
 Men hide their sins from living men, 
 In others, still condemn the sin; 
 They thus continue for a while, 
 Smoth'ring conscience, forcing smile, 
 Faithless in little or in much, 
 The judgment will come home to such. 
 
 Good men may suffer here the shame, 
 While conscious they are free from blame 
 With justice, a forbidden word, 
 Both sides in question be not heard. 
 Important facts kept out of sight, 
 The Judgment will bring all to light. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 115 
 
 A "mote" in brother's eye is small, 
 Suspicion makes it large and tall ; 
 Provoking judgment's bitter cup, 
 Will fill his eye completely up. 
 He then will say you're false, not true, 
 Your judgment will come home to you. 
 
 Religious neighbors we renounce, 
 Against them judgments will pronounce, 
 Because they stand on human ground, 
 And in their doctrines are not sound. 
 Ecclesiastic rule won't do, 
 Take heed this don't come home to you. 
 
 Of all the follies here below, 
 Our reaping shall be as we sow ; 
 And as we " measure" other men, 
 They, too, will "measure us again." 
 Do right and trust God's promises, 
 Then Judgment is no dread to us. 
 
 Oh, God of mercy, now we pray! 
 In Jesus' name, hear us this day; 
 May we be "slow to speak, to wrath, 
 And swift to hear" thy Word till death. 
 Repent and pray, our sins confess — 
 That judgment may not come to us. 
 
n6 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 K. OF P. BULL WRESTLER 
 
 Did Pythias or Damon ever dream of such a time 
 As 'pears upon the posters and as noticed in this 
 
 rhyme ? 
 Did they ever both together think our nation's day 
 
 to be 
 An occasion for the foolish and the giddy revelry? 
 Does the order of their honor think the patriot a fool 
 To disgrace our independence in a wrestle with a bull ? 
 
 Is the order so refining, or the people all so green, 
 That a special invitation to behold the awful scene 
 Must be sent unto the ladies to improve their modest 
 
 taste ? 
 Is it there our wives and daughters must a higher 
 
 model cast? 
 Then, if so, it is no wonder for their patronage they 
 
 pull, 
 To witness the great Leon in this wrestle with a bull. 
 
 Can the Christian in devotion go with joy to such a 
 
 place ? 
 Can he pray to God Jehovah, "Give the wrestler 
 
 strength and grace"? 
 And in earnest can he supplicate for all the people 
 
 there ? 
 Will they ever think to open such occasion with a 
 
 prayer ? 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 117 
 
 Will they ask the God of heaven just to give one 
 
 downward pull 
 And help this noble K. of P. in his wrestle with a 
 
 bull ? 
 
 Do they think they would be better, in the holy life 
 
 advance, 
 To see the horses running or to see the merry dance? 
 Can they see a plain connection, if to save their very 
 
 soul, 
 Where they catch a pig so greasy, or to climb a soapy 
 
 pole? 
 To remember independence, must we all act like we're 
 
 full, 
 And consecrate our honor to a Knights of Pythias 
 
 bull? 
 
 SUNSHINE AND SNOW 
 
 What is whiter or brighter, wherever we go, 
 Than the morning sunlight on the beautiful snow? 
 The earth covered over with its carpet of white, 
 Will glisten like silver in the morning sunlight. 
 It covers the fences and the bushes galore, 
 Forest, mountain and hillside are all whited o'er. 
 Gaping gulches so ugly and all winding roads, 
 The homes of the wealthy and the humble abodes, 
 The background of forest and the fields far and wide, 
 The snow is impartial, it will everything hide. 
 
n8 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 So the mercy of God and his love to bestow 
 But reminds me somewhat of the beautiful snow. 
 With our sins covered over and hidden away, 
 " No more be remembered," as the prophet did say ; 
 " Though your sins be as scarlet," like crimson aglow, 
 " I will wash you and make you as white as the snow." 
 We then walk in sunlight, in the sunlight of love, 
 Rejoicing and hoping for the glories above. 
 In such a life is really more beauty, I know, 
 Than the morning sunlight on the beautiful snow. 
 BarrackvillE, W. Va., February, 1913. 
 
 GROVER HURLEY'S SHAVE 
 
 His face was black and stubby with a beard; 
 As he watched me strop the razor, never feared. 
 He seated in a rocker in a room, 
 With the meekness of a sheep to meet his doom. 
 
 He did not speak his rather, 
 
 As I slathered on the lather, 
 But sat as still and silent as the tomb. 
 
 I took hold of his ear and gave a scrape, 
 He twisted up his mouth in awful shape; 
 I tilted back his chin to get a view, 
 To plainly see what I was cutting to. 
 I heard an inward groaning 
 And a low and painful moaning; 
 I knew I'd make him glad when I was through. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 119 
 
 The razor seemed to give an awful pull; 
 
 Grover sighed like he thought the edge was dull ; 
 
 I slapped the razor on the strop again, 
 
 Hoping, then, that we might reduce the pain. 
 Dry Canadian thistles 
 Or a patch of tough hog bristles, 
 
 Would help to make my task to you more plain. 
 
 To shave his upper lip was sure a task; 
 "Just grin and bear it" now is all I ask. 
 A tiny little stream of blood now flows; 
 I took a little chip from off his nose. 
 
 On the lip I can not linger, 
 
 So I held it with my finger; 
 I scraped and sawed ; from his eyes the water flows. 
 
 At last we're done and all was in a hush, 
 Except the clearing of the underbrush; 
 While o'er his face I went with greater pains, 
 He did not have so many writhes and strains. 
 "Many thanks!" was his thanksgiving; 
 He was thankful he was living. 
 'I'll not forget this shave while life remains!" 
 
 The point : Prepare for any work you do, 
 Preach, shave, farm or clerk, credit due to you ; 
 If you will but observe the "safety" rules, 
 Go at your work with good and sharpened tools; 
 Be competent and put to shame the fools 
 Who scorn the learning of practical schools. 
 
120 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 GOD'S WORD, THE CHURCH AND HOME 
 
 Where would we be without these three, 
 
 God's Word, the church and family? 
 
 The Bible in its rightful place 
 
 Will teach and bless the human race. 
 
 The marriage vow would sacred be, 
 
 The source for pure society. 
 "The church" for aged and the youth, 
 "Support and pillar of the truth." 
 
 Our origin we plainly see 
 
 And road to our safe destiny. 
 
 Oh, then, let all believers come — 
 
 Keep pure God's Word, the church and home. 
 
 To judge the future by the past, 
 
 How long, guess you, this world will last? 
 
 What will the next invention be 
 
 On earth, in air, or rolling sea? 
 
 Electric power even now 
 
 Can run the mills, the cars and plow ; 
 
 It takes the news around the earth 
 
 Of business, troubles, crime and mirth. 
 
 It takes your photograph and talk, 
 
 And makes the moving picture walk ; 
 
 It gives us light, and warmth, and power, 
 
 And new surprises every hour. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 121 
 
 With genius, power and intellect, 
 Does man not still his soul neglect? 
 Does he not all his wisdom scan, 
 To patent God's salvation plan? 
 Or is he not indifferent, 
 And never does of sins repent? 
 He lives "by sight" of earthly things 
 And "to the moles and bats" he slings 
 The message of redeeming love, 
 The Gospel from our Lord above. 
 The truth will not investigate, 
 "The Church of Christ" he scorns with hate. 
 
 The future of our boys and girls 
 A dark and mystic scroll unfurls; 
 For who can read "the yet to be" 
 With all the help of what we see? 
 The pleasure madness of the hour, 
 The love of money's grafting power. 
 Rome rules the Bible from our schools, 
 And ranks the Protestant with fools; 
 The Protestant is zealous, too, 
 With selfish parties not a few ; 
 Divided, they each other fight, 
 On God's W r ord they will not unite. 
 
 The schools are drifting with the tide, 
 From common sense they go aside. 
 The "evolution" of the race, 
 From monkey and baboon they trace; 
 
122 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 From little wiggle tails and frogs, 
 From lizards crawling on the logs! 
 Their so-called science never can 
 Admit that "God created" man. 
 Or that this earth, once " empty, void," 
 Was made by him one grand spheroid; , 
 Or moon and stars which circle 'round 
 Were in the same creation found. 
 
 For silly "evolution's" sake 
 The Bible is to them a fake ; 
 To them the "holy men of old" 
 Were only preachers trained and bold 
 To carry out some deep-laid scheme, 
 To fool the ages with a dream. 
 They lack "the missing link" to fit, 
 Yet smart men gap and swallow it. 
 They laugh the Christians in the face 
 Who trust in God's redeeming grace! 
 Their life and teaching fairly suits 
 To class themselves with other brutes. 
 
 The secret empire gathers in 
 
 The mystified of every kin; 
 
 To many mystic shrines they move 
 
 While looking for "the lodge above." 
 
 They gain in strength by building halls, 
 
 Enchant with revelry and balls ; 
 
 Processions proud and mocking rite 
 
 The devil and his dupes delight. 
 
 They rob the church, their badges flare, 
 
 While all join in "the Christless prayer." 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 123 
 
 Christless are they; should you insist, 
 You may be dubbed "a specialist." 
 
 Two hundred thousand boys, we hear, 
 Are filling drunkards' graves each year; 
 The daily papers show, each page, 
 "The white-slave traffic" on the rage. 
 While broken-hearted mothers weep, 
 The voters seem to be asleep ; 
 They honor party demagogues 
 And vote to please the money hogs. 
 And thus this awful story runs 
 Of ruined fathers, fallen sons; 
 And daughters, once so fair and pure, 
 Are blighted by vice demon's lure! 
 
 These many evils, others, too, 
 Conspired against the chosen few 
 Who would from all corruption free, 
 Keep sacred home and family; 
 Keep also pure the blood-bought Church, 
 Though sinners may their name besmirch; 
 'Contending earnestly for the faith," 
 Keep calling for "the Lord thus saith." 
 They bar religious traps of Rome, 
 Mark well the source from whence they come; 
 They are not bound by human plan 
 Nor resolutions made by man. 
 
 The family and the church must be 
 Our only hope to keep us free 
 
i2 4 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 From institutionalism's snares, 
 "Renewed, transformed," as Paul declares. 
 Let parents train their children, then. 
 Nor " spare the rod " because of pain ; 
 Let churches train their members, too, 
 To do aiight the work they do. 
 Two institutions so divine 
 Can but make up the royal line, 
 Make safe from Satan's vain decoys 
 The future of our girls and boys. 
 
 THE RED WHEELBARROW 
 
 My father made a wheelbarrow, 
 
 And painted it all red; 
 But it wore out, to my sorrow, 
 
 As if some friend was dead. 
 Of all the useful articles 
 
 I've handled in the past, 
 Of whole piece or in particles, 
 
 Not one has so impressed 
 As this old red wheelbarrow 
 
 My youthful strength to test. 
 
 I hear it now go whistling 
 With wear, for want of oil, 
 
 The broad steel tire goes glistening 
 While in my daily toil. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 125 
 
 The wheelbarrow goes glimmering, 
 
 I hear its creaking song; 
 Old Time our life is simmering, 
 
 To death we rush along. 
 In mind we bring each useful thing. 
 
 Wheelbarrow in the throng. 
 
 It was not built in hopper style, 
 
 Nor was it like a scoop ; 
 'Twould hold a barrel or fodder pile, 
 
 Or good-sized chicken coop ; 
 Or with two boys or girls or child, 
 
 I'd wheel them with a whoop. 
 Sometimes I took a ride the while 
 
 Some other boys were there, 
 With dimpled girls of winning smile, 
 
 Black, gold or wavy hair. 
 
 We then could put broad sideboards on 
 
 To gather hickory nuts, 
 Or when we had rail-splitting done, 
 
 I'd wheel the wooden gluts. 
 I wheeled the apples from the ground 
 
 Near to the cider press ; 
 Wheeled ashes for the trees around, 
 
 I always kept the pace ; 
 Wheeled beechwood, ash, oak, hickory sound, 
 
 To fill the old fireplace. 
 
 When not in use, stood by the door, 
 Just for my work, perhaps, 
 
126 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 To wheel firewood, backlogs galore, 
 
 From woodyard to the steps. 
 I noted this old friend's decay, 
 
 A spoke broke from the wheel ; 
 Both leg and handle broke one day, 
 
 I wheeled and it would reel. 
 I spliced it, then, to make it stay; 
 
 How anxious I did feel ! 
 
 But time was telling on it bad, 
 
 Its sideboards came apart; 
 It fell to pieces. I was sad 
 
 And loath from it to part. 
 Good-bye to you, old wheelbarrow ! 
 
 I'll not forget the joys 
 Nor pleasures you went with me through. 
 
 With happy girls and boys; 
 They all, like you, have left me, too, 
 
 In sad refrain I poise. 
 
 The old fire hearth has given place 
 
 To stove or fashioned grate; 
 No more does worming rail fence grace 
 
 The farm that's up to date. 
 Electric autos swiftly pass 
 
 The slowly-plodding team; 
 The water wheel's displaced, alas! 
 
 With gasolene and steam. 
 Old boys and girls sleep 'neath the grass, 
 
 This life is like a dream. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 127 
 
 The woodland now is cleared away 
 
 And changed to prairie fields, 
 The willow swamp, with flowers gay, 
 
 No more wild berries yields. 
 Old Time is wheeling us away, 
 
 The wheelbarrow is gone. 
 But let us do as well to-day 
 
 As this old friend has done, 
 Then, when our bodies must decay, 
 
 Our victory will be won. 
 
 OUR MOTHER 
 
 Our dear mother now is creeping 
 
 Near the age of seventy-nine; 
 And her children feel like weeping 
 
 When they mark her sure decline. 
 Late I stopped at the old home place, 
 
 And I walked about the farm; 
 There, with solemn and with slow pace, 
 
 I reviewed with some alarm 
 Many swiftly-flying minutes 
 
 Of my now departed joy. 
 With the work and pleasure in it, 
 
 When the writer was a boy. 
 
 Viewed the marks of the foundation 
 Where the old log house once stood ; 
 
 And the woodpile's near location, 
 Where I chopped the winter's wood. 
 
128 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Near the well, with curbing oaken, 
 
 Though it now is all filled up, 
 I stood, with my feelings broken, 
 
 Drank in mind the flowing cup. 
 When our mother, lithe and active, 
 
 With the strength of pioneer, 
 She would make our home attractive, 
 
 And she was our overseer. 
 
 Here she nursed our clear old father 
 
 All of six long, painful years ; 
 And she buried precious children — 
 
 She was often found in tears. 
 Here she read to us the Bible, 
 
 And commended us to God, 
 And insisted on our walking 
 
 In the path our Savior trod. 
 Mother now is old and feeble 
 
 And her race is almost run ; 
 In a halo full of glory 
 
 Soon will be her setting sun. 
 
 Oh, my mother, how she loved me! 
 
 How I was her pride and joy! 
 Though in discipline reproved me 
 
 When inclined a wayward boy. 
 And so now I love to praise her 
 
 For her strictness of the past, 
 When I in my sinful pleasure 
 
 Would her heart gloom overcast. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 129 
 
 Now all honor to our mother, 
 
 With the goodness, patience, love, 
 
 Here on earth we'll find no other 
 Who will such forbearance prove. 
 
 Since we have faced life's battles, 
 
 Heard the clash of human wills, 
 'Mid the conflict's roars and rattles, 
 
 Oft our soul with sorrow fills. 
 Then I long for you, oh, mother ! 
 
 Let my head rest in your lap, 
 There my sobbing grief to smother 
 
 Like I was a little chap. 
 For I love you now, oh, mother, 
 
 More than in the former days, 
 And though married to another, 
 
 I will ever sing your praise. 
 
 BarrackvillE, W. Va., February 4, 191 3. 
 
 CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 When lonely or in crowded throngs, 
 Some people see their neighbor's wrongs ; 
 Their own faults they would fain excuse 
 While they their neighbor must abuse. 
 They write and talk it far and wide, 
 To friend and foe on every side. 
 The neighbor, then, 'tween you and me, 
 Will count them as an enemy. 
 9 
 
1 30 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Then every scandal they will scour 
 And try each other to devour; 
 So heedless of their awful doom, 
 They each the other will " consume." 
 What "might have been" a fault passed by 
 Is now their sins piled mountain high; 
 They see no good in each to be, 
 But count him as an enemy. 
 
 If they had only seen the good, 
 
 And gave due credit, as they should, 
 
 And loved them for their good work's sake, 
 
 They would not give to them "the shake." 
 
 They would not all their friends annoy 
 
 By trying each one to destroy; 
 
 Nor hold their faults as common plea 
 
 For counting them their enemy. 
 
 If some one shows to us our fault, 
 Regard it not as an assault, 
 But turn and look then for the blight, 
 For we may find that he is right. 
 And if one's writings cross our path, 
 Regard it not a stab to death ; 
 Though unkind he may seem to be, 
 He may not be an enemy. 
 
 With "many men of many minds," 
 Oh, blessed be the soul that finds 
 The good in each and every one, 
 And makes each virtuous trait his own. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 131 
 
 In pity prays before God's throne 
 That Christ may for their sins atone, 
 By leading them their sins to flee 
 As friends, and not his enemy. 
 
 O God, my soul ! how weak we are 
 To scent the follies from afar 
 Of other men, and while we, too, 
 Have faults and failings not a few. 
 Oh, may we be humble as we must, 
 In penitence, sincere and just ; 
 May we in love and prayer e'er be 
 For both our friend and enemy. 
 
 Richmond, Mo. 
 
 WHEN THE PREACHER COMES 
 
 When the preacher comes to our house 
 Everything is still as a mouse ; 
 The children all, both girls and boys, 
 Must cease so much unwonted noise, 
 Must get their books and leave their toys, 
 When the preacher comes. 
 
 Are preachers all such sacred things? 
 They haven't any sign of wings; 
 
132 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 They laugh and cry like other folks, 
 They spin their yarns and tell their jokes; 
 Pint if we shout, ma almost chokes, 
 When the preacher comes. 
 
 When the preacher comes to our house, 
 Mamma puts on her brand-new blouse ; 
 Looks in the glass and curls her hair. 
 And tries to look as young and fair 
 As when my papa courted her. 
 When the preacher comes. 
 
 When the preacher comes to our house 
 We have more than "jist old souse"; 
 We have fried chicken, pies and cakes, 
 Jellies, preserves and good beefsteaks. 
 You ought to taste the bread ma bakes, 
 When the preacher comes. 
 
 Pa calls Lord's day Sabbath day, 
 Forbids us all to work or play; 
 But ma, she stews, and fries, and boils, 
 And lakes, and frets, and sweats, and toils 
 Yes, on this day she has turmoils, 
 When the preacher comes. 
 
 When Widow Jinks or old man Finks 
 Come up to our house, mamma thinks 
 They can "jist" live on what we eat; 
 No use to put on style and treat 
 Them all with manners so complete, 
 'Less the preacher comes. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 133 
 
 Why all this partiality 
 And useless, vain frivolity? 
 That "preachers are but men" is true; 
 "Not to be ministered unto, 
 But to minister to you/' 
 
 When the preacher comes. 
 
 CONSIDERATIONS No. II 
 
 A beautiful flower stands in the field, bowing its 
 head toward the sun, giving forth its fragrance sweet 
 and sparkling with the dews of the morning. Full 
 of glory, brightness and cheer, it dreams not of its 
 untimely death. But, alas ! along comes the plowman, 
 and this beautiful flower is turned into the furrow and 
 buried from our sight forever. To me there is some- 
 thing pathetic in a faded leaf, a dead bird or a wilted 
 flower. But my heart is filled with a peculiar heavi- 
 ness when I hear of the death of one of my old school- 
 mates. Not long ago I heard that George Garner was 
 dead. Big-hearted, sympathetic George ! And now a 
 letter comes to me with the sad message : " Aleck Hiatt 
 is dead." These were both schoolmates of mine, but 
 a few years my senior. Aleck was a near neighbor. 
 I loved him. He always called me "Thaddy." He 
 was a farmer, a hard worker and an honest man. But 
 they are gone! How it carries my memory back! 
 Peace be to their ashes. 
 
i34 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 BYGONE CHRISTMAS 
 
 The Christmas day has come and gone, 
 
 With all its joys and grief; 
 Yet to the vain it was but fun, 
 
 The day of year so brief. 
 The wealthy kin their presents bought 
 
 And gave to wealthy kin; 
 Nor once the poor and needy sought, 
 
 Whose clothes were ragged, thin. 
 
 And wealthy kin rich gifts received, 
 
 And lauded " Santa Claus," 
 While orphan, widow, are but grieved 
 
 To hear their loud applause. 
 The trains are full of travelers gay, 
 
 Intent to visit friends, 
 Who're waiting, anxious, 'long the way. 
 
 At depots — journeys'* ends. 
 
 A Merry Christmas and a kiss, 
 
 A handshake and a shout, 
 Of flirting dude and giggling miss; 
 
 Bum, sport and worldly scout 
 Are sharing each their Christmas joys, 
 
 Unmindful of the cries 
 Of hungry orphan girls and boys, 
 
 Nor hear their empty sighs. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 135 
 
 A Christmas tree is all the go, 
 
 And nearly every church 
 Will try to have a great big show, 
 
 Among their presents search; 
 Of stocking none, nor warming shoes, 
 
 Nor money to buy coal; 
 No meat nor flour, and no clothes, 
 
 To cheer the poorest soul. 
 
 Children declaim their pieces well ; 
 
 Their parents sit and weep, 
 Of heathen homes to hear them tell 
 
 Across the briny deep. 
 The fiddle, horn and organ sound 
 
 With singing in their ears, 
 Followed by a merry-go-round, 
 
 Which dries up all their tears. 
 
 The Devil, flesh and world look on. 
 
 They all enjoy the plight; 
 They never persecute their own 
 
 Who walk alone by sight. 
 They revel, festive pleasure love 
 
 More than they love the Lord; 
 God's perfect will they do not prove 
 
 Nor reverence his Word. 
 
 The children talk of "Santa Claus" 
 And " Christ, the new-born child " ; 
 
 The people greet with one applause, 
 And almost frantic, wild. 
 
36 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 They make the birthday of the Christ 
 
 Occasion for this lie 
 Of "Santa's reindeer, chimney" tryst, 
 
 While sinners 'round them die. 
 
 Oh, loyal Christians, heed the voice 
 
 Of him who reigns above, 
 He who made poverty his choice 
 
 To manifest his love ; . 
 Who wept with sisters at the grave 
 
 Of Lazarus dead and gone, 
 Who for the poor the Gospel gave 
 
 And raised the widow's son. 
 
 Pure religion and undefiled 
 
 Before our God is this : 
 To bless the widow and her child, 
 
 From worldliness to cease. 
 And as we prosper in this life, 
 
 In lands or gold in store, 
 If faithful as the Savior's wife, 
 
 We'll not forget the poor. 
 
 The "Christmas day" has come and gone, 
 
 The "New Year" now is here; 
 Oh, let us gird our armor on 
 
 To read our title clear. 
 This world is full of vanity 
 
 And " Santa Claus " a fraud, 
 But "Jesus born on Christmas day" 
 
 Is "Christ, the Son of God." 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 137 
 
 STRINGTOWN SCHOOLMATES 
 
 Oh, my poor heart, the Stringtown School 
 
 Is being broken up ! 
 Our old schoolmates must heed the rule 
 
 To drink death's bitter cup. 
 Those happy days of long ago 
 
 Are now forever past ; 
 Our joyful spirits, once aglow, 
 
 Are bowed with grief at last. 
 
 The echoes from old Stringtown School, 
 
 From Hayden's blacksmith shop, 
 Repairing, by some handy tool, 
 
 The busy farmers stop. 
 The ponds of ice and buttonwood 
 
 Afford the skaters sport ; 
 The boys and girls when skating's good 
 
 Flocked to this grand resort. 
 
 When bell for "books" was ringing loud 
 
 We rushed from fun to work; 
 The platform by the door we'd crowd, 
 
 Both student and the shirk. 
 The reading, writing, 'rithmetic, 
 
 Which made our daily task, 
 Were spiced with joke or laughing trick. 
 
 Joy? Fully all we ask. 
 
138 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 Our playground was an acre lot, 
 
 The schoolhouse was a frame ; 
 We sometimes in the meadow got 
 
 With Garner's butting ram. 
 The seats were made of walnut wood, 
 
 All notched with pocket knives ; 
 The teachers treated us, if good, 
 
 And blessed our simple lives. 
 
 But one by one they drop from view, 
 
 Those boys and girls of yore; 
 Oh, that beyond the azure blue 
 
 We all could meet once more, 
 And in the higher school of grace 
 
 To find that sweet accord 
 Of those who find themselves a place 
 
 Forever with the Lord. 
 Topeka, Kan., November 29, 1912. 
 
 BE KEERFUL 
 
 There is a line of moral worth, 
 
 And always with sweet savor, 
 When speaking boldly of the truth, 
 
 Enjoy the public favor. 
 But, then, the truth on " doctrine " lines 
 
 Is not received so cheerful ; 
 So when you once observe these signs, 
 
 Be keerful, oh, be keerful. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 139 
 
 This talk of "God's great Fatherhood," 
 
 "Man's brotherhood" relation, 
 In gen'ral is received as good 
 
 In high or humble station. 
 But if you speak of " Spirit birth," 
 
 They will not be so cheerful; 
 So in preaching here on earth, 
 
 Be keerful, oh, be keerful. 
 
 And some will greet you with a smile 
 
 When preaching "one baptism"; 
 But if you dare to speak the while. 
 
 Against their own pet ism, 
 Although in kind and anxious tone, 
 
 And with your eyes so tearful, 
 Then if you would not weep alone, 
 
 Be keerful, oh, be keerful. 
 
 And should the sisters wear much gold, 
 
 No sleeves, or low-neck dress, 
 In Paul and Peter's words of old 
 
 The modest law trespass; 
 If they your words of warning miff, 
 
 As if they would your ear pull, 
 Just change your sermon in a jiff, 
 
 Be keerful, oh, be keerful. 
 
 If editors should make mistakes, 
 Then we must not dare mention, 
 
 But cover up the wrong he makes 
 By granting good intention. 
 
HO POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 But should another try the trick, 
 Rebuke him, oh, most fearful ; 
 
 But when the great ones need a lick. 
 Be keerful, oh, be keerful. 
 
 If some few Christians start a school 
 
 And teach some Bible knowledge, 
 Why not, despite the Golden Rule, 
 
 Just call it a church college? 
 Thus raise "a war of men and words," 
 
 Fill hearts with sadness near full, 
 But when among assuming lords, 
 
 Be keerful, oh, be keerful. 
 
 Against such schools and men they war, 
 
 From week to week they drive it; 
 But if the "secret lodge" we mar, 
 
 It must be done in private! 
 Oh, horrors! the dread "specialist"! 
 
 Against such sins so fearful, 
 This work in public must desist. 
 
 Be keerful, oh, be keerful. 
 
 Go preach the Word, rebuke, reprove, 
 
 Long suffering, exhorting; 
 The time is come when men will love 
 
 False teaching in retorting. 
 The fables of the day will please, 
 
 They want their itching ear full ; 
 So if with them you'd be at ease, 
 
 Be keerful, oh, be keerful. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 141 
 
 Allowing all the motives good 
 
 On each one's explanation. 
 We in our opposition should 
 
 Make clear discrimination. 
 Impartial, fighting every sin 
 
 In earnest, and most prayerful, 
 And to be sure the crown to win, 
 
 Be careful, oh, be careful ! 
 
 LAW SUITS 
 
 (I Cor. 6: 1-8) 
 You have noticed in your time 
 Facts as stated in this rhyme, 
 Men whose hearts are filled with hate 
 Never stop to arbitrate, 
 
 But they take the pains to magnify a flaw. 
 
 Then they will blow, and puff, and bluff, 
 Show their tempers sure enough ; 
 Xone can for them mediate, 
 They are not considerate. 
 
 Xo. But they are bound to settle it by law. 
 
 Brothers in the Lord berate 
 Brother, and intimidate 
 With their threats about "the pen" 
 And their loss of money, when 
 They must pay a heavy fine and cost of court. 
 
142 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 They will thunder out, "The jail!" 
 Laugh to see their victims quail. 
 Whether in the wrong or right, 
 Good men dread a legal fight, 
 For their foes the evil only will report. 
 
 While on some they try their bluff, 
 They will meet some sterner stuff, 
 Who with firm and fearless frown 
 Tells them " Go and crack it down ; 
 
 You will learn we, too, have sand within our craw. 
 Get your witnesses and proof, 
 We will give you law enough." 
 Oftimes then the bluff will fail; 
 They then will furl their sail, 
 
 Anchor fast, and willing not to go to law. 
 
 Paul condemns this very sin, 
 
 Lawing with our fellow men. 
 
 Brethren in the Church of God 
 
 On the holy Word will trod, 
 And in the matters they could easily arbitrate. 
 
 Affidavits good and strong 
 
 Sometimes help to block the wrong, 
 
 And some facts the public know 
 
 Quiets those who threaten so; 
 Then they count the cost, they stop, they hesitate. 
 
 Good men sometimes lose their sense, 
 And will law about a fence; 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 143 
 
 They will pay big lawyers' fees, 
 Lose their time in heat or freeze, 
 
 Hurt the church and bring the cause of Christ to 
 shame. 
 
 Men will row about a cow, 
 And they law from then till now; 
 One may pull the old cow's head, 
 And one may pull her tail instead, 
 
 But the milk goes to the lawyers all the same. 
 
 Lawing for a meeting house 
 
 Hurts the cause which we espouse; 
 
 Loss of money, moral force — 
 
 Build another house, of course, 
 And a woe be unto him who brings the suit. 
 
 People who are dragged to court 
 
 Have no other safe resort ; 
 
 They would not be brought to shame — 
 
 They must fight for their good name. 
 Many souls become denied from such a source. 
 
 Preachers, then, should burn with shame, 
 
 While they other sinners blame, 
 
 If they try to bring to taw 
 
 By their threat of court or law 
 Any brother, even though he may be wrong; 
 
 They are "utterly at fault." 
 
 Let them take a little salt, 
 
 For the Church of Christ can not 
 
 Dwell in love with all such rot 
 As certain as this line shall end this song. 
 Gilman City, Mo., October 23, 1913. 
 
144 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 THE TATTLER 
 
 No. i — 
 
 Why, how de do? I'm glad you've come. 
 
 How are the folks to-day? 
 And have you heard what awful things 
 
 They tell on Bro. A? 
 
 No. 2 — 
 
 I'm sure I never heard a word. 
 
 Now come and tell me all. 
 I know 'taint right to carry tales, 
 
 But it's you and I, that's all. 
 
 No. i — 
 
 I do not know but that I heard, 
 
 And maybe it's a lie; 
 The people gossip so, you know, 
 
 But, thank my stars, not I. 
 I tell it as it came to me. 
 
 He took his wife and went 
 To see them dance up in the hall. 
 
 I think he should repent. 
 
 No. 2 — 
 
 Oh, yes, I heard, but had forgot. 
 
 His wife she wore a mask. 
 'Tween you and me, repeat it not, 
 Was dancing with the rest. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 145 
 
 I think it is so terrible 
 
 The way some people talk 
 And tattle, and some story tell 
 
 Of others' daily walk. 
 'Tis better never to repeat 
 
 Where one insinuates, 
 A neighbor's reputation cheat, 
 
 A doubtful tale relates. 
 And I am very careful, too, 
 
 To stop the tattling spell; 
 But I am free to talk to yon, 
 
 'Cause you will never tell. 
 
 No. 1 — 
 
 A deadly poison is the tongue. 
 
 Says James, the writer bold; 
 And things on which great troubles hung 
 
 Should never have been told. 
 Haint Sister C an old blabmouth? 
 
 Don't you believe she said 
 That you was such a pouty thing 
 
 And other things as bad ? 
 I think she ought to come to you 
 
 And make the matter right. 
 Oh, how can one such talking do 
 
 And sleep well over night? 
 I'm always careful what I say 
 
 And never stir up strife; 
 These secret things should always stay 
 
 Between a man and wife. 
 
 10 
 
1 46 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 No. 2 — 
 
 You bet I will make her eonfess 
 
 And 'pologize and beg, 
 And sniff and ask forgiveness, 
 
 Before I'll move a peg. 
 Backbiting is her game, I know, 
 
 And slander is her trade; 
 But don't you ever tell her so, 
 
 I never would be paid. 
 
 No. 1 — 
 
 Oh, no, I never tell such things, 
 
 For they do gender strife; 
 I've got a bridle on my tongue 
 
 To guide me on through life. 
 
 I'M SATISFIED 
 
 Oh, could we have only known 
 
 Of the hidden danger rock, 
 Of icebergs under water, 
 
 We would not have felt the shock. 
 With eye of faith and watchful, 
 
 Looking to the other shore, 
 We, sailing, would have safely 
 
 Passed the foaming billows o'er. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 147 
 
 Could we have seen the danger 
 
 Underneath the rolling tide, 
 The cry from midnight darkness 
 
 Would have been " Saved !" I'm satisfied. 
 
 Could we when in the garden, 
 
 Plucking off the blooming rose, 
 Had known of thorn so piercing 
 
 Which beneath the blossom grows ; 
 Our joys, too, for the blessing 
 
 Of the rain's refreshing shower, 
 Are modified by lightnings, 
 
 With their life-destroying power. 
 We, then, from love and duty 
 
 Should not easily turn aside, 
 But in holiness our beauty 
 
 Should abide, I'm satisfied. 
 
 It takes no little trouble, 
 
 And much toiling here, to boot, 
 To cultivate one orchard 
 
 Till it bears the precious fruit. 
 For "all who will live godly 
 
 In Jesus Christ" here shall see 
 Distress and persecution, 
 
 As was promised to them free. 
 But by these " fiery trials" 
 
 We must every one be tried, 
 To prove if we are faithful 
 
 And are true, I'm satisfied. 
 
48 POBTIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 J f when we long have trusted, 
 
 And have loved our fellow man, 
 Worked many years together 
 
 By the same old gospel plan, 
 They then impugn our motives, 
 
 And must hinder so our way 
 Of fighting sins in public, 
 
 Which have darkened our day; 
 If our words of earnest protest 
 
 They unkindly cast aside, 
 Jehovah knows our battles 
 
 Here, and I'm satisfied. 
 
 Suppose they do not count us 
 To " belong to the same school," 
 " Not in the same class with them," 
 "Ingrate," or natural fool; 
 Far " beyond discipleship," 
 Or "willingness to learn," 
 "Have rebelled" and will not bow 
 
 Unto them at every turn; 
 "Incompetent" and "coward," 
 Everything else mean beside, 
 Doing right, with conscience clear, 
 We are safe, I'm satisfied. 
 
 The Bible still is left us, 
 Just as good as e'er before; 
 
 Opportunity, as ever, 
 
 Opens wide to us the door. 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS T49 
 
 God blesses still our labor — 
 
 Praises to his holy name ! 
 Sinners turn to find salvation 
 
 From a life of sin and shame. 
 And now we "look to Jesus" 
 
 Till we meet God's glorified; 
 In Christ are all things needful, 
 
 Having these, I'm satisfied. 
 
 GETTYSBURG REUNION 
 
 We honor them by pen and mouth, 
 The boys of old from North and South, 
 Who all with equal valor stood 
 For w T hat they felt was right and good. 
 The Blue and Gray once in the fight. 
 At Gettysburg now all unite. 
 
 O'er valleys wide and mountains steep 
 They step to fife and drum did keep; 
 They plied their steel and bullets spent, 
 While under Robert Lee or Grant, 
 Against each other for the right ; 
 At Gettysburg they now unite. 
 
 All hail ! these hoary men of worth, 
 No longer are they South and North, 
 But one united brotherhood, 
 United in our country's good, 
 For otherwise how sad the plight. 
 At Gettysburg they now unite. 
 
50 POHTIC CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 At Gettysburg, that bloody place, 
 Where Blue and Gray were face to face, 
 From distance and with hand to hand. 
 Like demons unto death they stand. 
 The darkness now has turned to light, 
 They in old Gettysburg unite. 
 
 The infamy of prison life, 
 Far away from children, wife; 
 The march, the camp, the hospital, 
 The Blue and Gray forgive it all. 
 Behold, how pleasant is the sight, 
 At Gettysburg they all unite. 
 
 Where smoke of powder filled the breeze, 
 Where marks are still upon the trees, 
 Where graves of comrades lying thick, 
 Where once they marched to double-quick, 
 Where there was dearth of funeral rite, 
 They in old Gettysburg unite. 
 
 Forget the strife, forgive the sin 
 Which all were overtaken in, 
 And let the hatchet buried be, 
 As General Grant once said to Lee; 
 "Let us have peace" and end the fight. 
 Like Gettysburg, let's* all unite. 
 
 Those boys are three-score years and ten, 
 The same brave, true and valiant men; 
 
POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 151 
 
 With patriot love-look in their eye, 
 Where once they even dared to die, 
 They meet the enemy again, 
 But Union is their glad refrain. 
 
 'Tis human to engage in strife, 
 With anger, hatred, malice rife; 
 Forgiveness is a grace divine, 
 And mercy justice will outshine. 
 God's spirit is more worth than might. 
 Like Gettysburg, let's all unite. 
 
 If they who walked through streams of blood, 
 
 In spite of ball and steel once stood, 
 
 For enemies were filled with hate, 
 
 All fighting for their home and State, 
 
 Can now forgive and do the right, 
 
 Why not we likewise all unite? 
 
 They meet in gladness, part in tears; 
 
 The blissful day of many years 
 
 Was the reunion of Blue and Gray 
 
 At famous Gettysburg that day. 
 
 Oh, may they meet through faith and love 
 
 In Grand Reunion up above. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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